Tell my Story
by unsualpairings
Summary: As Doctor Oliver Thredson arrives at Briarcliff to do the assessment of one Kit Walker, his life is forever changed by the women he meets there that will ultimately shape his future. Full of twists and turns (and lots of angsty lust-filled interactions) this story is a roller-coaster ride of emotion and mystery.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Welcome to Briarcliff

"It's time."

Kathryn looked to the large and looming building before her, feeling the chill of the autumn air sweeping around her from the open car window. She glanced at her mother in the driver's side of the car, looking grey and solemn. The woman's lips were set in a firm line as she glanced at her daughter, face half hidden behind a curtain of dark hair. Kathryn frowned deeply before swallowing.

"You promise you won't leave me here unless I say I'm alright with it?"

"Of course not," Dorothy replied with a ghost of a smile before stepping out the car and opening the door to Kathryn's side of the door. The young women stepped out shakily, her face going pale at the sight of the dark grounds. She felt the wind whirl around her bare knees, her skirt swirling in the breeze.

 _I can't do this._

Before she could outwardly protest, Dorothy gave Kathryn a shove towards Briarcliff. She could hear the muffled shouts that rang out of the asylum and Kathryn's dark eyes filled with tears that slipped down her cheeks like traitors. She wiped them quickly before anyone saw. This is what it had come to. An asylum. This is what her life had become. She felt a wild, frenzied panic set into her chest and she halted abruptly.

"What is it, Kathryn?"

Dorothy's eyes were steely, determined and part of Kathryn wondered if there was a silent glee hidden behind her mother's wide green eyes. Her mother looked so cold then, her entire presence giving off nothing but ice. Kathryn faltered and her mother gave her a quick shove once more, like one would to get a horse to start trotting. The two figures made their way up the steps.

"Please don't do this to me," Kathryn begged quietly as they approached the door. "Not this place. I haven't done anything wrong."

"The Monsignor is an old family friend," Dorothy insisted quietly. "I'm doing this to help you, Kathryn. I know that this is the best place for you."

"They can't help me," Kathryn insisted, her voice starting to crack as the door began to open. It sounded with a atmospheric creaking before a a severe looking nun exited the building, her eyes settling on Kathryn's face moodily before flicking icily to Dorothy.

"Sister Judy?" Dorothy ventured. "We spoke on the phone earlier? We're the Hatcher's."

"Sister Jude. This way," Jude replied flatly before turning on her heel into the darkness.

Kathryn was taken aback by the cold tone of the nun. She had always thought that they were kind, patient creatures. The bitter woman before her, guiding them down a myriad of hallways was anything but. Kathryn took in the dark, dingy hallways, the smell of decay and sadness that surrounded her as she followed the woman dejectedly.

Finally after what seemed like ages they approached the top of the staircase, opening large doors and greeting a pale, nervous looking man wearing a habit. Kathryn observed that he was traditionally handsome in an innocent sort of way. Large pale eyes, ashen skin, tall and sinewy. He looked fairly fragile for a man that commanded so much power here.

"Father Timothy," Dorothy said with a tight smile. "Or should I say Monsignor now?"

"Just Timothy is fine," Timothy replied with a shy smile. He glanced over at the young woman who stood silently beside Dorothy. "Hello Kathryn. I haven't seen you since you were much younger. I was so sorry to hear about your father. He was so beloved at our old church. I'm sure the congregation still recalls his singing fondly."

Kathryn kept silent, watching the Monsignor's face contort into embarrassment at her silence.

"The tea is in your sitting room, Father," Jude interrupted the uncomfortable silence, shooting Kathryn a dark look of resentment.

"Ah yes," Timothy continued hurriedly. "Come in, come in."

He ushered the women into the sitting room where tea and biscuits sat waiting, smelling heavenly. Kathryn's stomach jumped at the sight of food. She felt sick to her stomach being in this room, the sound of the ticking clock her only company. Dorothy glanced at her daughter before moving to help herself to some tea before settling across from Timothy. Kathryn remained at the doorway, a fixed statue looking for escape.

Sister Jude shot her a patronizing eye roll before settling herself beside Monsignor Timothy. The three of them glanced at the young woman who's pale face shone like an orb in the darkened room.

"Come sit Kathryn," Dorothy encouraged her daughter with imploring eyes, patting the seat of the chair beside her. Kathryn moved towards the large stained glass at the corner of the room, shedding what it could of the light from outside.

"I'd prefer to stand by the window if it's all the same, Mother."

Dorothy was about to protest when the Monsignor nodded: "Completely fine, Kathryn. Please do whatever puts you most at ease."

Kathryn walked to the window, letting the air leave her chest as she found her salvation. She pressed her forehead to the cool glass, letting the temperature bring down her fevered panic. She wished the windows here opened.

Kathryn's eyes were swimming with frustrated tears at the situation. She was sad. Wasn't this normal at the loss of a parent? Especially one she was so close to? She wiped the tears on the back of the arm of her sweater before glancing out the window once more. She knew that she wasn't completely like other people, but until her father's death she had done just fine. She had managed.

Suddenly a sky blue Ford Falcon moved up the driveway slowly, coming to stop at the edge of Kathryn's vision. She watched as a tall man with neat black hair and glasses got out of the car. He carried a briefcase and was impeccably dressed.

 _A doctor_ , Kathryn assumed. He had the pensive, serious look of a doctor.

A conversation was beginning in hushed tones across the room.

"She's just so impossibly _sad_ ," Dorothy whispered to the Monsignor when Kathryn was out of earshot. "She just sleeps all day. Then at night she's pacing around worried, fearful. She hasn't been the same since her father died. She lost her job at the library. She ended her engagement. Something needs to be done! I'm afraid for her health."

The two figures looked at Dorothy pityingly. The woman looked so scared for her adult daughter that they couldn't help but be surprised at the daughter's calm exterior. With the way that Dorothy had gone on over the phone she had made it sound like the girl was start raving mad. She was a little tired-looking, most assuredly. But did she belong in Briarcliff? Timothy wasn't so sure.

"I have seen similar cases to this," Timothy replied graciously, glancing at Kathryn a moment before focussing back on Dorothy. "Acute nerves. Hysteria. But I'm afraid our psychiatric facilities may not be the best for your daughter. Our provisions are limited."

"You _must_ help her," Dorothy intoned darkly. "When I found out that you had taken over Briarcliff and turned it into this beacon of hope I just knew you'll be able to help her. I just knew it."

Timothy faltered a moment, wanting to protest that he wasn't so sure when Dorothy continued with hushed, conspiratorial tones.

"Besides, think of the publicity this would generate if you were successful! Kathryn would be the poster child for your success! Your ambitions would reach new heights."

"Ambitions?"

"Men like you aren't contented to be monsignors all their lives," Dorothy offered with a grim smile. "I've known you a long time, Timothy. I know you have your eye on becoming a pope. Let me help you with that ascension."

Timothy felt a flush rise to the back of his neck at her words, embarrassed at the truth being so boldly presented. Sister Jude sat impassively beside him, her behavior giving nothing of her perspective away from the conversation.

Before anything more could be added, a sharp knock came to the door and Sister Mary Eunice stuck her head in. Kathryn didn't even bother turning around, her mind somewhere escaping along the trees that lined the property.

Monsignor Timothy glanced up from the conversation, a polite smile on his lips. "Yes, sister?"

"Dr. Thredson is here Monsignor. I've already showed him to his office."

"Thredson?" Monsignor inquired, momentarily confused.

"Uh, yes, the court appointed psychiatrist for the..." Mary Eunice faltered a moment before cupping her hands around her mouth and whispering the next part. ".. _Kit Walker_ assessment."

"Ah, yes," Timothy nodded. "How could I forget?"

Mary Eunice shot a small smile back and closed the door behind her.

"A psychiatrist?" Dorothy perked right up, her smile wide and toothy. "Perhaps this Dr. Thredson could be of some assistance with my Kathryn?"

"I'm not so sure," Jude insisted with an irritated pursing of her lips. "Dr. Thredson is really just here for the Kit Walker assessment, I don't think-"

"That will be enough Sister Jude," Timothy interrupted with a gentle hand on her arm before turning back to Dorothy. Jude fell silent, her jaw clenching in resentment. "I believe we can take your daughters case on, Dorothy. I cannot promise perfection, but I promise that within a month you shall see definite improvement."

Dorothy nearly fell over at this comment, her cheeks flushing happily. She clapped her hands together gently in muted celebration. Sister Jude watched balefully from her seat next to him, horrified at the impropriety of this ridiculous woman. She glanced over at the back of the young woman, her eyes still fixed on the scenery before her. Was she going to be a lot of work? She hoped not. She had her hands full with this Kit Walker. She looked back over at Dorothy's shining face, momentarily disgusted with the woman's elation at leaving her daughter her.

"My suggestion is that you leave immediately," Jude offered solemnly. "I have a feeling that delaying your exit will only hurt your daughter in the long run. There is no need for over-sentimentality here. We will contact you to keep you informed."

"I'm afraid Sister Jude is right," Monsignor Timothy added placing a warm hand on Sister Jude's shoulder. She felt a jolt of pleasure run through her senses at the contact. "Making a dramatic exit would really serve no purpose."

He shuffled around on the table before them before producing a large piece of paper with lots of wrting on it. The same paper all guardians had to sign in order to admit familial patients.

"We just need your signature here."

"Of course Monsignor," Dorothy agreed signing hurriedly wherever the man pointed, never bothering to read what she was signing. Sister Jude watched the woman carefully, wondering what kind of woman just threw her daughter into a madhouse with such little question.

"Thank you both," Dorothy whispered as she gathered her purse up onto her shoulder and cast the silhouette of her daughter one last look before rushing out the door. She closed it gently behind her, all the while praying her daughter didn't turn around.

Kathryn didn't.

With her forehead pressed against the cool glass, Lost in a world where she was still a librarian with a distinguished fiancé she didn't notice anything was amiss until she saw the image of her mother rushing down the stairs of Briarcliff through the window. She viewed the woman creeping down the steps in silent awe before her body finally stapped into action.

"Wait," she spoke aloud at the image of the woman rushing down the steps. "Is that my mother?"

Spinning around she was affronted with the horrible fact that it had not been a dream. Her mother was gone from the room. All that remained were the two strangers she'd met earlier. Timothy and Jude sat impassively watching her, the former wincing and the latter a small smirk of dark delight on her features.

"Where did my Mother go?"

"Kathryn," Timothy began before being interrupted by Sister Jude. She stood sharply, drawing over to the girl and giving her a dark look of intimidation.

"It was best that your mother leave. She didn't want to upset you further."

Kathryn winced, backing into the window and feeling its cool touch against her back. "No. No she promised."

Kathryn whirled back to the window, her hands balled into angry fists that she pounded against the glass hoping to catch her mother's attention. The woman never turned back and Kathryn felt the first cool blood run through her veins as she saw the car speed off into the afternoon light. Within moments the car was gone and Kathryn was truly, officially alone here.

She had been abandoned here.

"Now, let's get you to intake," Jude said with a sardonic smile as she stood, walking slowly to Kathryn.

Kathryn turned to face her angrily, her teeth bared in defense. "I'm leaving."

"Your mother knew that this was the best course of action for you, Miss Hatcher. Please calm yourself."

"I'm a grown woman," Kathryn spat, slowly inching towards the door. "I'm in charge of my own body. I'm leaving her immediately."

Timothy stood, walking towards Kathryn in step with Jude. The two of them were so imposing, so dark and dreary in their black habits and muted faces. Timothy was looking to her with a sorrowful glance.

"Since you are not within your right mind and you are unmarried I'm afraid your mother _is_ your sole guardian," Timothy offered in a soft, dulcet tone. "She has signed over authority for we here at Briarcliff to do everything within our power to get you back to your old, healthy self."

"My father would never have let this happen to me," Kathryn insisted, her face flushing with anger as she backed away from the two advancing monsters in front of her. "He'd never let me be admitted into a nuthouse!"

"We want to help you, Kathryn."

"Well, I'm not staying."

Without warning Kathryn dashed out of the office, her breath catching in her throat as she opened the door with a flourish, bumping into Sister Jude before Timothy could shut it. Disoriented, Kathryn rushed to the first set of stairs she could find to her left. She could hear the sound of Timothy and Jude shouting behind her and their quick footsteps trailing on her.

She rounded the hallway, her eyes searching for an exit. There was nothing.

 _No no no._

She could hear the hoots of patients urging her on, telling her to run like the wind. She couldn't see them but they cried out from all corners. The darkness enveloped her as she pressed against the brick on the side of the corridor. She covered her mouth with her hand as she heard Jude and Timothy rush by her, their voices pitched in furious frustration.

"Not even five minutes and already a hassle," Jude was muttering.

Kathryn waited until they had been gone several moments before she continued her descent down the black hallway in front of her, trying her best to be stealthy. She groped blindly in front of her before dashing into a full on sprint. She saw the light from the hallway at her right and followed it, breathing heavily through her nose. She glanced backwards for any sign of Sister Jude or Timothy.

Nothing.

She almost smiled in victory when she ran into something very tall and very hard. She fell back onto her tailbone, scratching her elbow as she landed. She glanced up to see the Doctor from outside, his dark brows knitted in confusion. He leaned down, his large hand on her shoulder, momentarily stunning her. Her eyes scanned all of his face, taking him in as she tried to stand.

"Are you alight?"

"Stop her!" came a booming voice of an attendant who had been let in on Kathryn's escape plan. "She's a runner."

Kathryn tried to move past the doctor quickly, but the hand on her shoulder was biting into her flesh as he deftly reached down to pull her to a standing position. She fought against his grip, crying out in anger and trying her best to kick him. He seemed nonplussed, holding the girl by the wrists up against him, making sure she had no opportunity to kick. This was fairly typical of high-risk patients and he was unfazed.

The orderly advanced, a large needle glinting in the dark light. Kathryn looked over her shoulder and moaned lowly in her throat at the sight of it and tried in vain to move past the doctor.

"Is that really necessary?" The Doctor was asking in a dark baritone as he held the shaking Kathryn against him, feeling her fight turn to fear.

She didn't want to be any closer to him. She wanted his horribly large hands off of her. But she was terrified of what the needle behind her meant, for she knew it could be nothing good. She still tried to wrench herself from the Doctor's grip, but couldn't help but inadvertantly push herself up against his body. She was trembling against him, her teeth clenched together.

"Sister Jude's orders," the orderly insisted, grabbing Kathryn's arm harshly. "Gotta administer this so she's calm."

Kathryn yelped at the contact and looked to the Doctor in complete and utter desperation.

"Please help me."

Kathryn cried out as the needle bit into her bare forearm and the last thing she saw before she crumpled to the ground was the sight of two dark brown eyes watching her as she fell into unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Dr. Thredson

He'd only been here five minutes and already Sister Mary Eunice was uncomfortable around him. She didn't like the way his dark eyes were hidden behind those fashionable glasses. She didn't like how he wandered the expanse of Briarcliff as soon as he entered as if he knew it. She didn't enjoy that he seemed unnervingly calm despite what he was there to complete. _Bloody Face_ ; the murderer.

"Dr. Oliver Thredson," he offered with a thin smile that didn't completely touch his dark eyes. She surreptitiously looked him over. Tall, clean looking, tailored suit and glasses that gave him an air of sophistication and academia. He held out a hand and she shook it absently before realizing he was waiting for an introduction.

"Sister Mary Eunice," she replied.

She had no use for psychiatrists. _Quacks_. Headshrinkers as Sister Jude called them.

"Pleased to meet you. I'm here for-"

"Kit Walker," Sister Mary Eunice interrupted with a saccharine smile to cover her thoughts. "Hasn't arrived yet I'm afraid. They're a bit behind schedule. He's expected later this afternoon. I'll show you to the office."

"Office?"

"Yes, the Monsignor insisted you have your own office to do your assessment."

Oliver followed the young nun down the corridor to the left. She walked quickly with purpose, humming gently to herself as they made their way through the labyrinth of rooms. But Oliver's ears were attuned to the sound of cries and whimpers through closed doors as they could see many of them were in old and shabby clothing. Some looked like they hadn't brushed their teeth or hair in decades. Others cried out to him to help them.

 _Horrible._

The treatment of these individuals was disgusting, demoralizing and completely unacceptable. The orderlies stood by boredly making sure that nothing serious happened. Not one of them offered a word of comfort or engaged with the patients of Briarcliff. Oliver watched the frame of the young nun walk in front of him before she came to an abrupt halt near the end of the corridor.

"This is you," she offered with the same false cheer, opening the door to reveal quite a large space. "I'll let them know you've arrived."

Oliver stepped through the door, surprised at how dark it was inside. All that lay in the large room were a sofa, a desk as well as a chair. Everything looked old and dusty. He was about to inquire on when he could meet the Monsignor when the door slammed shut behind him, leaving him to his own devices. He walked to the desk, observing that it had a manila folder, black phone and blue glass ashtray perched upon it.

Absently he reached for his packet of cigarettes inside his breast suit pocket popping one into his mouth and lighting it deftly. The smoke curled around his full mouth as he slowly exhaled, the smoke fogging up his vision slightly. He cocked his head slightly to the left, realizing that he was completely alone down this part of the building. Despite the light of the day he shivered slightly.

It was so quiet in here. Almost silent. He wished he had a martini.

His eyes wandered back to his desk and the folder that lay atop, crisp and smooth and waiting for him to discover its inside contents. He could feel his fingers aching in anticipation of what lay inside. The police records that had been forwarded to Briarcliff. He could barely breathe.

 _Bloody Face._

His fingers traced the folder gently before finally opening the file on his desk. Images of murder and depravity looked back at him and he winced slightly at the his hand in this he couldn't help but feel disappointed when he viewed the clippings. Every skinned face that stared back at him just reminded him of his own acute failures. She was never the right one.

 _Enough of that._

Oliver shrugged off his jacket, smoothing it over his chair and settling into place. He was here for a mission and it needed to be completed. First step was to prepare the documents that would seal the fate of this Kit Walker.

 _Time to begin._

He opened his briefcase, grabbing a slip of crisp paper and placing it into the roll of the typewriter when he heard the distinct sound of feet against cement. It sounded like frantic running coming in this direction. He rose quickly, rushing to the door and pulling it open with a flourish. He walked into the corridor to enquire about the noise when a figure rushed headlong into him, bouncing back onto the floor.

Oliver winced at the blow of her body against his own and stared down at the woman on the ground.

He was stunned to see a visitor. If he was to guess he would have pinned her at her late twenties, her dark eyes looking up at him through thick bangs with a look of absolute panic. She was wearing plain street clothes and looked completely lost. Was she a guest that had gotten lost? Oliver kneeled down until they were eye-level. The woman was still breathing deeply, her lips quivering. He brought a heavy hand to her shoulder, his grip gentle and soothing.

"Are you alright?"

He felt her flinch at his touch and the woman's lips parted to speak when all of a sudden a tall orderly rushed down the hallway, his voice booming in the quiet of the corridor startling them both.

"Stop her! She's a runner!"

Oliver watched as the woman tried to skirt past him, her shoulder still within his grasp.

 _She was a patient?_

Why was she wearing street clothes? He gripped the woman firmly by the shoulder and brought her to a standing position, peering into her face and confused at the lucidity in her gaze.

She tried in vain to wrench from his grasp as his hands slid down around her wrists. She attempted to kick his kneecaps and he couldn't help but smirk at her pluck.

 _A lot of fight in this one_.

He gripped her wrists so tightly it shocked her and he pulled her body roughly to his to stop her kicks. He wasn't one for such physical reprimand but the woman was strong and he knew she would escape by any means necessary. She smelled of lavender soap and sweat he observed detachedly. As he held her in his grasp his forefinger ran over the the skin of her wrists absently. He was surprised to find it was smooth and soft.

Her skin. Not motherly, too young... but beautiful in its own way.

He had to stop that train of thought.

Oliver's attention was drawn back to the orderly who had produced a large needle. The woman saw the surprise in the Doctor's eyes and turned to look over her shoulder. At the sight of the needle she cried out in fear, her body trembling against him. Hispulse quickened at the contact.

"Is that really necessary?" Oliver offered with a dark tone of disapproval, his voice a silken baritone that didn't reflect the emotions that swirled within him.

He felt the girl burrow tighter against him, desperate to escape the needle.

"Sister Jude's orders. Gotta administer this so she's calm."

Oliver looked down into the girl's pale face, seeing the panic that etched it's way around her eyes. The orderly had grabbed her arm and was pumping the drug into her arm carelessly. Oliver observed the sloppy way he did so and frowned before the girl's voice reached out to him, slurring softly.

"Please help me."

Without warning the girl's eyes slammed shut and her body went limp in his arms, the sedative having worked its magic. Oliver felt the girl's body falling backwards and moved to grab her when the orderly intercepted and swooped her up into his arms, tossing her roughly over his shoulder. Her head and arms hung down his back like a large rag doll, her hair a fountain of deep orderly turned to Oliver with a pinched smile of thanks.

"Thanks for the help, Mister."

" _Doctor_ Thredson," Oliver replied evenly. He didn't love how that altercation had gone. The Orderly had been sloppy in his administering of the needle. The girl had seemed terrified. Something was very strange here.

"I'm Carl," the orderly replied, hefting the girl further up his shoulder. "You're here for the _Bloody Face_ guy, right? I've heard talk."

"I am."

"Well, I gotta get this one into delousing," Carl nodded his head at the unconcious girl on his shoulders. "Nice to meet ya."

With that, Carl was stalking down the hallway roughly, his broad arms carrying the girl as if she were an irritating child. Oliver watched their figures diminish down into the darkness before retiring to his office once more.

 _An exciting place to work_ , he thought darkly.

Oliver had been writing a half hour when the door to his office flew open and in stepped a tall, slender man who looked at Oliver benevolently. His eyes were light and dreamlike and his body ensconced in a dark habit. Rosary beads lingered at the side of his hip.

"Ah, Dr. Thredson a pleasure!" Monsignor Timothy offered slowly as drew over to the desk and shook the man's hand emphatically."I trust you're finding yourself comfortable here?"

"Yes, quite," Oliver smiled gently. Timothy smiled back before looking rather awkward, his fingers steeped together as he spoke. "I appreciate the sizable office. Most outfit me with a modified closet for assessments."

"But of course," Timothy smiled graciously. He faltered a moment, his body language betraying his discomfort with his next inquiry. "Perhaps you could repay me in a similar kindness doctor?"

Oliver quirked an eyebrow in surprise. "Oh?"

"I know you are here for the Kit Walker assessment, but I was wondering if you might see to another patient while you are here and if time permits, offer some sort of treatment? We'd be happy to cover any additional costs provided they don't border on excessive."

Oliver frowned before shaking his head from side to side. He knew why he was here. He had on mission and it needed to be completed. As much as he wanted to help all the poor souls in this hell-hole, he knew that he had to stay focussed.

"I really have only been assigned to the one case-"

"I know," Timothy interrupted, his eyes pleading. "But due to budget constraints our psychiatric services are in shambles at the moment and she is the daughter of an old friend. You have a few hours before Mr. Walker's arrival and I would be indebted to you."

Oliver pursed his lips thoughtfully staring at the pale man before him. He noticed how predatory the man's eyes were. A man who could be ruthless if necessary, Oliver wagered.

 _Better play along or he'll find another shrink to take your place._

Oliver knew that his placement on this case was tenuous at best. When he'd called the asylum to inform them of his arrival they hadn't been surprised. A court mandated psychiatrist? Of course. They hadn't even questioned why he hadn't met Kit in prison. All he had to say was his title and people fell all over themselves.

But now looking at Timothy, Oliver realized he could only rock the boat so far. He smiled wanly at the Monsignor before nodding. What could it hurt anyway? The Monsignor was right - he had a lot of time on his hands.

"What has she been admitted for?"

"Acute nerves. Hysteria."

Oliver's dark eyes flashed as he produced a small pad of paper and pencil from his suit pocket. He wrote something hurriedly onto the pad before glancing up at Timothy.

"Such a diagnosis is no longer diagnostically accurate."

Timothy looked taken aback at the man's tone but continued on unfettered. "According to the mother: Depression, anxiety and suicidal tendencies."

Oliver nodded, scribbling quickly onto his small pad of paper.

"The name of the patient?"

"Kathryn Hatcher," Timothy motioned for the doctor to follow him. "This way."

Oliver slipped the pad into his breast pocket before he followed the tall, slender man down the corridors. Oliver couldn't help but smile kindly at every lost soul who shambled by him, their eyes either dead and glazed or frightened and wounded. Oliver could cry for all the abandoned souls here. He knew too well how harsh life could be to the unloved and uncared for. He walked down the spiral staircase, following the Monsignor who was babbling on about the hospital's bakery.

Finally they drew to a large door in the middle of the hallway. A large steel door stood in front of them, a small glass window their only view in or out. Oliver glanced into the darkened room, only just making out the figure who lay inside. Inside lay Kathryn in forced slumber. Her hair in waves on the pillow, her hands. She had been outfitted in Briarcliff's customary blue dress, socks and tennis shoes. Her chest rose softly as she slept, her face free of worry. Her hands lay at her sides, giving her a trapped look.

Oliver's eyes stayed on those hands and wrists. Now he could see the pale expanse of her arms. He recalled the feel of her skin on his fingertips. The smooth, softness that caused his stomach to swirl and churn. Oliver was taken aback at the sight of her and his brows furrowed. Timothy noticed and raised his own quizzical brow.

"You know her?"

"I ran into her earlier today," Oliver offered gently, his eyes still fixed on the figure sleeping on the bed. "Before she was formally admitted."

Timothy noted that the Doctor looked most uncomfortable. Likely uncomfortable with taking on an additional workload during his stay here. But if the county was paying for his time he might as well make good use of it! Oliver dragged his eyes from the girl and to the door handle.

Timothy was anxiously looking to him, wondering when the man would speak next. Would this Doctor refuse him? Surely not. Timothy had great aspirations for himself and Kathryn Hatcher's improvement was an integral part of that.

"I feel she could truly benefit from your counsel," Timothy continued in a urgent whisper "She is quick witted and open to treatment. I am sure you would see miraculous change."

Oliver's eyes were on the floor before him, his body stilled. Timothy could feel the panic raising in his voice as he spoke next. "So will you do it, Doctor?" Oliver was stoic a moment, his eyes dragging from the room back to the face of the Monsignor before nodding gently.

"Bring her to my office tomorrow morning."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Getting Cured**

Inside the halls of Briarcliff a new individual had been admitted, though not with her permission or even knowledge. Lana Winters woke up blearily, her eyes and head stinging as Sister Jude's face swam into view. Behind the woman was a dark and dreary cell. Lana groaned at the heavey feeling in her limbs, realizing with slow horror that she was restrained to the cot underneath her. Jude's dark smile quirked at the edge of her lips as she saw Lana struggle.

"You're awake. I'm so relieved."

 _How did I get here?_

Lana's mind whirred as she recalled what had brought her to Briarcliff. The Bloody Face murderer was being admitted. Kit Walker. She had wanted the first interview - to scoop the rest of the reporters and secure her space as a credible journalist.

But upon arrival her motives had become clear and her cover up of an interest in their bakery was blown. She hadn't even had the chance to break the scoop on Kit Walker. Then when she'd smuggled herself back down the tunnel under the Hospital she had heard something. She was almost certain it was a young man crying out in pain. Were they doing experiments here? All she remembered was something grabbing her down there... and now she was here.

And it was all because of this miserable crone, Sister Jude, that looked down at Lana with such condescension. Lana's throat was dry, her voice cracking as she spoke.

"What's going on?"

"You had an accident."

Lana knew she was lying. She had been attacked by something down in the depths of Briarcliff and this woman knew it. She also knew that after a few minutes of speaking with her and explaining suck that, Sister Jude's eyes had grown flinty and cold. Despite Lana's protests that something attacked her Sister Jude ignored her. Instead she explained her visit to see Wendy. And as Jude detailed her lover's deception in remanding her to Jude's custody, Lana could feel her eyes filling with angry tears.

 _She's lying. Wendy would never do that._

Jude spoke openly of their homosexual relationship, her mouth turning into a frown at the term.

"We're gonna slay that monster together you and I," Jude said passionately as she moved towards the door of the cell. "Morning devotionals are at 6 am sharp, no exceptions."

"No!" Lana's heart raced, her voice hoarse. "Let me out of here! Come back here, you _bitch_!"

Lana had never spoken to someone of the cloth that way, but her terror had taken over everything.

"Chin up," Jude said, her hand on the cell door. "We're gonna get you cured."

The next morning, after a restless sleep Lana heard the sound of movement down the hallway. Her temples and wrists ached from their previous restraints. Her body itched from the delousing. The last ten hours had been a veritable hellhole. Lana looked around the small cell before she viewed a piece of paper left behind by Jude laying discarded on the floor. Lana stood shakily before grasping it in her hands.

 _There has to be a pencil around here somewhere._

Lana got down on her knees, her hands searching around the corner of the cell for anything that would work as a mark maker. As if a sign from the gods above, Lana felt under the mattress of her cot, her desperate hands coming upon a small nub of graphite.

 _Thank goodness._

Lana's mind raced. She had to get down what was happening to her, she simply had to while it was still fresh in her mind. She didn't know how long she was going to be in here. She hurriedly wrote, her hands shaking.

 _'October 28th. Strip searched and phone call.'_

Before she could add anything more a large voice boomed from outside her cell.

"EVERYBODY UP AND OUT NOW."

Before she could think she shoved the paper and pencil into her pillowcase, praying that they would not be found before laying her body down, her ears attuned to the footsteps that were hurriedly making their way down to her. The door of her cell opened suddenly.

A short guard came in, his eye impassive watching the woman who looked as if she had just awoken.

"Come on," he said, ushering her out. "Stay down the hall."

Female patients of all ages and abilities littered the now crowded hallway, mumbling to themselves as Jude swept down the corridor.

 _What's going on?_

"Room search, Miss Winters," Jude spoke, reading Lana's thoughts."We find it keeps our charges honest."

Lana watched as she spoke to two of the women of the ward, her tone warm but her words cruel. She saddled up to Lana, her eyes drifting into the woman's cell.

"Find anything Frank?"

"Nope," Frank replied, lifting Lana's mattress before dropping it. "Looks clean to me."

"Check the pillowcase," Jude replied.

Lana felt her stomach drop as the older man's hands searched her pillowcase, sighing thickly as she was discovered. Jude's eyes slithered onto Lana's face, a look of dark victory on her aged features as Frank spoke next.

"Aha," Frank replied, producing the note from the case. "Here we are."

Jude read the note, her eyes filling with merciless glee as she spoke aloud.

"October 28th. Strip searched and deloused. Denied phone call. And just who would you like to call Miss Winters? The American Civil Lesbians union?"

Frank snickered darkly beside her and Lana cringed.

"My editor knows that I came here to write this story," Lana lied, her cheeks hot. "And boy do I have a great scoop for him now."

Jude turned a dark smile on before mocking Lana's ambitions before pocketing the note and preparing to head on.

"I don't need those sister," Lana spat out angrily, regretting it almost instantly. "I have an excellent memory."

"Yeah?" Jude replied without turning around, her stride determined. "We'll see about that."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Assessments**

Kit Walker Assessment. 

_Patient is 24 years old. Completed grades K through 12, no higher education. Patient is believed responsible for the murders of multiple women including his wife. Victims' bodies were discovered in a remote field drained of blood, decapitated. The murders may have started as a purging of racial guilt at what his conditioning would have viewed as an illicit coupling. Patient is manipulative. Diagnosis: Acute Clinical Insanity._

Oliver sat back at his desk, his face calm as he raised a cigarette to his mouth, puffing gently as he re-read what'd he'd written, satisfied at its accuracy. The meeting with Kit Walker had proved illuminating as well as tedious at points. The boy was obviously disturbed. The stories of little green men from outer space were easy enough to identify as the onset of some sort of psychosis. And he'd obviously murdered his own wife because of it.

He sighed aloud, wondering where along the way the young man's mind had snapped. It was always fascinating to discover the inner workings of each madman he encountered. He tapped his cigarette out before going to stand at the window behind his desk, looking out into the placid courtyard. A boy like that shouldn't be left on the streets free to do more damage.

 _But you should? After all you've done?_

A dark voice in the back of his head spoke, chastising him and Oliver frowned. He was a compassionate man. He knew that his actions were a rash compulsion over years of familial abandonment...but still. The feeling of those women's skin brought a comfort that he had long been searching for. This Kit Walker's murder was nothing more than a psychotic break, unable to be contained for long. He wondered what Kit had done with head. Had he buried it? Kept it as a souvenir somewhere? What had become of the skin?

 _The skin._

At that thought, Oliver let his eyes fall closed, his body leaning back into the chair and a shiver running through his body. The office of Briarcliff was dark but his thoughts were much darker.

It had begun to rain and small drops slipped down the window like grey tears. Sighing at the dismal way the day had turned out Oliver lit a new cigarette, enjoying the rich taste that the tobacco brought before a sharp knock sounded at his door accompanied by some shuffling and murmured irritation.

Oliver turned, his eyebrows raised in surprise as Frank peered around the corner of the door into the room looking embarrassed at having bothered him.

"Doctor Thredson, I got a girl here. Monsignor said you had an appointment to see her? A Miss Hatcher?"

Oliver's mind whirred a moment in confusion, his lips pursing a moment before he recalled. Ah yes, the dark haired runaway. He nodded, motioning for Frank to bring the girl in. With a lot of commotion the girl was dragged into the office by Frank who looked completely unimpressed with the whole situation. She cried out, trying to kick Frank and do everything to evade his clutches.

"I told you I don't need to be here," Kathryn spat, trying to shrug away from a disinterested Frank. Oliver viewed that the woman's hands were bound behind her, leaving her looking quite helpless.

"The cuffs aren't necessary," Oliver commented.

"She's bit two orderlies so far," Frank said flatly. "We had to cuff her. Either that or sedation. She chose cuffs."

Oliver looked to the girl in surprise. She didn't seem the type to act out in such a manner. In the light of the morning he could see her much clearer. A pale face with full lips. Dark bangs hung in her eyes and her hair past her shoulders in errant waves. She looked like any other young woman in 1964. But her eyes held fast to his face, dark and full of anger and Oliver felt an inadvertent thrill go through his body at the sight. No one looked at him like that.

He drew his tall frame into the chair behind his desk and motioned for the girl to take a seat opposite him.

"Take a seat."

Hands still clasped behind her the girl took a deep sigh and sat down, her eyes never leaving Oliver's face. She took in the calm demeanor of the shrink. Knowing full well that he was the main reasons he had been caught yesterday. _He_ was the reason she had been deloused and strip searched and subjected to a disgusting ritual of listening to _Dominque_ on the record player of the common room on repeat.

She took in his face, noting the pale almost haunted look to him. His dark hair was in start contrast to the pale complexion. His eyes stared back at her through stylish glasses. He was very well put together. His tailored suit, the part in his hair a sharp and straight line. His mouth sensually parted as smoke curled around his lips. He pressed his cigarette into the ashtray before speaking.

"If we remove the cuffs I trust you'll be a bit more respectful?"

The girl said nothing that would indicate she was listening, but Oliver knew she was. He gave a small nod to Frank, watching as he uncuffed the girl, glancing at her face. Kathryn remained passive, drawing her hands into her lap and now looking to the floor. Oliver placed his cigarette on the ashtray absently, his face tranquil. Satisfied, Frank headed out the door of the office.

"I'll be just outside the door, Doc. If you need me just call."

Oliver nodded, his eyes never leaving the young woman in front of him. She looked impossibly miserable and very cognisant of what was going on. Most of the individuals here had the lazy, glazed look about them, slugging in movements from their medication. But she looked alert and awake.

"Miss Hatcher? I'm Dr. Oliver Thredson," Oliver leaned over and reached a hand across the desk for her to shake.

It was a customary action. One he replicated with all his patients. But with her he could almost feel the desperation in his body, urging her to touch him. To place those soft fingers around his. The feel of her silken wrist in the forefront of his mind. He could feel his hands all but twitching at the supressed desire to have her hand on his. For that sweet skin-to-skin contact that he constantly craved.

Kathryn glanced at the light, tapered fingers before her eyes glanced back at the cigarette still smouldering on the ashtray. He retracted his hand and noticed her glancing at his cigarette. Hoping to win some modicum of trust he produced a package from the breast pocket of his suit, motioning to the proferred cigarette in his fingertips with his eyes.

"Would you care for a cigarette?"

She didn't reply, instead crossing her arms in front of her with distaste, those same dark, angry eyes were on his face once more, taking him aback. He could feel the animosity coming off of her in waves. It was surprising to have someone dislike him this much without knowing him first. He'd most definitely felt that gaze from women before. Most notably when he had them around the throat in his basement. But this girl didn't know anything about him and yet she was looking at him as if she could read his very thoughts.

"I'm surprised at your rather vitriolic attitude towards me Miss Hatcher," Oliver said as he placed the cigarettes back into his suit pocket. "When I met you just yesterday you were asking for my help."

That got a rise out of her. She became instantly alive, her knuckles turned white as she gripped the arms of her chair almost leaping out of her seat.

"I asked for your help because I was being sedated _against my will,_ " She all bu _t snarled. "_ I thought you might see that I was being falsely imprisoned. Then I realized you were just as bad as the rest of them, wanting to lock me up. Then I realized I was better off not wasting my time with you. But they made me come anyway. So here I am."

She straightened up as she spoke, looking to him with a dark grimace. Oliver was surprised at the girl's bravado in a place like Briarcliff. She had a supercilious attitude that told him even without words how she felt about him. He knew he couldn't let her see she was getting a rise out of him. Instead he shot her a close-lipped smile, looking down at his files as if he had something very important written down.

"I understand from the Monsignor that you may be suffering from some emotional disorders," Oliver continued as if she hadn't spoken. "While I'm here I'd love to help you all I can."

"I'll take a rain check," Kathryn replied with a lazy drawl, her eyes on the window, watching the rain come down lazily. Oliver leaned back in his chair, hearing it creak under his weight as he surveyed her.

"And why is that, Miss Hatcher?"

"Because you can't help me. Why you would agree to see me in the first place is beyond me. I only have to be here a month then I am being released."

"Is that so?"

"Yes," Kathryn sniffed. "The Monsignor assured me."

"He did," Oliver quirked a mocking eyebrow in her direction. "The same Monsignor that asked you to be seen by me?"

Oliver let his words hang there a moment in stiff silence, seeing as the girl's doubts flashed across her face momentarily. Kathryn knew the weight of his words.

Play ball. If she didn't do what the Monsignor had prescribed she could be here for months if not years.

She sighed darkly before settling back into her seat, her entire air of confidence having leaked out of her like a deflated balloon. Her shoulders were slumped and her eyes were suddenly wet. Oliver felt a pang of guilt for taking pleasure in taking her down a peg. That wasn't kind of him and it wasn't professional.

"I want to help you," Oliver offered gently, his voice low and soothing. "I've made it my profession to help others. But you need to meet me halfway."

Kathryn's hands balled into angry fists at the situation. She hated that she was here, stuck with this condescending man. He wanted to fix her?

"Fine."

Kathryn's head whipped up, her lips thinned in frustration.

"You want to know all about my life Dr. Thredson? Here it is. I was born March 9th, 1936. I grew up with a father who loved his job and a mother who was very socially connected. I was home a lot by myself and I enjoyed the solitude. No brothers or sisters. One dog, a border collie, named Maxine who died when I was seven. I had a normal childhood full of family vacations and Sunday night dinners and I grew up loving to read. So I went to college to become a librarian and so that I could explore the world on my own."

Oliver wrote quickly as she spoke, trying his best to keep his notes brief and his attention on the girl.

 _Patient is 28 years old. Completed grades K through 12. Completed college. Patient is believed to be suffering from acute depression and anxiety. Patient has idealized version of her childhood when it is apparent she was a latchkey child with minimal parental influence during formative years._

"Tell me more about what brought you to Briarcliff currently."

"My mother _abandoned_ me here."

Oliver's pencil faltered a moment at her words, his eyes drawing to the girl's face as she continued.

"I was a reference librarian," Kathryn answered with a sigh. "Living on my own. Engaged to an English Professor. My father died a year ago suddenly and my world ended. I couldn't cope. As the months went on I lost my job and my apartment."

"I'm sorry to hear of your loss," Oliver offered solemnly. Kathryn continued, her voice steady and unflinchingly cold.

"When I got sick my fiancé left and took the ring with him. My mother was worried about me so she moved me back home. I didn't have any fight left in me to refuse. She was embarrassed by me. Unmarried, sick. A spinster. She wanted me to see someone; a therapist like you. But she wanted it to be through a religious institution. I tried a few counsellors at the church but they were little help. Then she read in the paper about Monsignor taking over Briarcliff she brought me here. Now I'm here, against my will, talking to you. A stranger who turned me in."

"You must understand from my perspective that you -"

"Are a patient here against my own will. Here for something as ridiculously plain as being sad and anxious. How would you feel if your father died and your Mother didn't want you around? Wouldn't you feel abandoned? Unwanted?"

Oliver's lips thinned slightly at her words, his jaw clenching tightly. Kathryn observed the change in the man before her, the coolness that had crept into his warm facade.

"I can empathize that you must be feeling anguished. Forgotten. But from your admittance I gather you also dabbled in suicidal ideation?"

Kathryn winced at his words, her mouth curving into an displeased line."Once. Sleeping pills. It was a mistake."

"May I ask what prompted this decision to take your life?"

Kathryn looked slowly into the face of the man opposite her. His eyes were warm and yet offered nothing of invitation. His lips seemed soft, yet his mouth was set in grim determination. It was if he were a creature that had studied how to look kind and welcoming and even trained his voice to have an even, soothing texture. But a creature that was nothing like that on the inside. He wanted information from her.

And while she wanted dearly to fight him and to tell him that he was the reason that she was locked up, she didn't. Because as Kathryn Heather looked into the gaze of Oliver Thredson , she realized that even a person who would listen to her only because he was getting paid was better than having no outlet at all. And so she softened, her jaw unclenching and her tone growing calmer.

"Do you want to know the real reason I'm here, doctor?"

The girl's body language had changed. She drew her legs up until they were crossed in front of her on the chair, her elbows on her bare knees as her skirt rode up. She balanced her chin on her hands and looked anywhere but at Thredson as she spoke. He leaned forward slightly, his hands folding on the desk in front of him.

"I'm here because my mother never wanted me," she saw his surprised glance. "Oh, she'll tell you otherwise, but my Mother views me as a blight. A useless embarrassment that she never wanted in the first place. Did you know that she wanted to abort me before my Father found out? Was that in your files?"

Oliver blanched slightly at the girl's words, the horror of her situation unfolding in front of him. He heard the hitch in the girl's voice before she continued.

"I didn't think so. Found that piece of news out when I was helping clean up after my father's death. A bunch of diaries in the attic. I thought it would be fun to read. Never told her I found them," Kathryn straightened a bit, her gaze levelling Oliver's. "So you see it was only my father who loved me. Never her. My father _wanted_ to keep me. So when he died last year I felt like I was an orphan. Then Michael decided our engagement was too much work. So now I have no one left in the world who actually cared for me. And now I've been abandoned here and I'm even more alone than I ever thought possible."

 _I know that feeling._

Oliver felt his gaze drawn to the girl's reddening cheeks, her voice growing quiet as she lowered her face into her hands. He knew she was trying her best not to cry. He could feel the pain she was feeling acutely for he had gone through the same his entire life. He could almost remember being that young boy the other children mocked. Mocking him for his glasses and his keen mind and the fact that he was an orphan.

And while Oliver could have been comforted at the thought that he had been put into foster care for some valid reason, to have it confirmed that one's existence had never been wanted was too harsh a blow for anyone to be dealt with, especially a sweet and soulful creature like the one sitting accross from him looking near tears.

Without thinking he had reached across the desk, placing a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder.

Immediately she pulled from his touch, looking like a frightened animal, her eyes were wet and fixed on his face. Oliver brought his hand back quickly, sitting sharply on the chair and looking curiously into her face. How strange. He had always craved the physical contact he had been so denied. And now she was sitting here, a similar position of abandonment and his touch had upset her.

Interesting.

"I apologize if that upset you. I simply find your reaction to comfort to be surprising," Oliver replied keenly aware of the girl's discomfort.

"Intimacy has never been my strong suit," Kathryn said without emotion, her eyes drying as her eyes drew distractedly to the floor. "It's probably why Michael left."

"Michael?"

"My fiancé," Kathryn replied darkly. "He was an English professor. We met at work when he was doing some research. We used to listen to records and go to the theatre together. He was so fun at the start. But when my Father died he had little interest in being there for me. Too much work, I guess."

"How often were you two intimate?" Oliver inquired, his pencil raised and ready to jot down a number. When he was greeted with silence he glanced up to see the girl's pale face growing quite red.

"We weren't married."

"It's 1964 Miss Hatcher," Oliver smiled gently. "I'm not old fashioned enough to think that men and women don't know each other sexually before marriage."

Kathryn felt the hot sting of humiliation crossing her features, her hands fiddling awkwardly in her lap. Why was any of this necessary to know?

"Why does it matter?"

"I'm just trying to assess where your levels of comfort are around intimacy," Oliver replied stoically. "My motives are sincere and professional, I assure you, here in my office is not a place of judgement."

"I grew up in the church, Dr. Thredson," Kathryn finally replied quickly and quietly. "We were never intimate. It... It just wasn't done. Michael was always trying but I just couldn't. Something always made me stop. I don't really want to talk about this anymore."

 _Patient bears much guilt in terms of religious preference. This is likely where her discomfort with Briarcliff is rooted. Intimacy and anxiety are closely linked. The death of her father has caused the patient to withdraw into herself._

Oliver lowered the pencil gently, looking back to the girl with a look of genuine interest. "Do you believe you're sick, Miss Hatcher?"

"No," Kathryn replied honestly. "I think I'm just sad and maybe that I need to talk about my problems sometimes. I enjoyed talking with you until..." she trailed off, not wanting to mention the issue of intimacy.

Finally the ice began to break from her exterior, Oliver observed. This was quite common in patients coming in with such trauma. A hard front that covered a soft and desperately wounded interior. He could see the girl's posture had relaxed, her gaze now drawing to his own without challenge.

"Would you be willing to participate in treatment on your issues of depression, anxiety and intimacy?"

"What sort of treatment?" Kathryn asked warily, her face growing concerned.

"Exposure therapy, perhaps medication and above all talking just like we're doing here."

"What's exposure therapy?"

"It's a technique we use in behavioral therapy to treat anxiety. You are exposed to the thing that you fear without any danger associated. For example, say you feared rats. We would put you in a room with a rat in a cage until you were comfortable and so on and so on until by the end your anxiety of being in close proximity with the rat had depleted."

Kathryn could barely follow what he was saying but the Doctor was looking at her with a look that was almost comforting. Still something nagged at the back of Kathryn's head that something wasn't quite right.

"Are you reporting everything to Monsignor?"

"No," Oliver replied truthfully. "All patient files are kept confidential."

He saw the girl didn't look quite convinced and so he continued.

"Miss Hatcher, the only way that Monsignor can keep you in here r is if they have a current diagnosis. If we can make some headway into combating your illness, I can convince the him that you should be released. He'll have no choice but to comply."

"I don't know," Kathryn replied with a shrug, feeling her chest clench tightly at the thought of this exposure therapy and more talking about awful subjects. "It seems a bit...extreme. I don't know that I could do that. "

"It's completely your choice of course," Oliver replied quickly, lighting a new cigarette and puffing. "I would never force a patient to do anything they were uncomfortable with. I will say however, that the longer you delay treatment, the less time we have to work together. I don't know how long I'll be stationed here."

From behind her thick bangs Kathryn peered into the face of Oliver, her gaze distrustful. Why was this man even attempting to care about her situation? If the rumors were true he wasn't even assigned to her case.

"You'd take me on as a patient?"

"I would."

"Why do you care?"

"I care for the health of all my patients," Oliver lied.

He obviously couldn't admit to her that her case had drawn a special interest in him. If she had been anyone else he would have administered some drugs as a band aid solution and sent her skipping back to Monsignor. But with her stories, her life... he knew there was something more there. He could see the indecision on the girl's face and knew he would have to be aggressive.

"I see that this may not be right for you and that is completely fine," Oliver put out his cigarette, calling out to the closed door. "Frank? I believe the patient and I are done."

Frank entered into the room boredly making his way to Kathryn, the cuffs swinging from his right hip. Kathryn licked her lips in indecision, her gaze going from Frank and then back to Oliver.

"Alright," she murmured to Oliver. "I'll do it."

Oliver smiled, standing as Frank approached. He looked to Kathryn who rose slowly to her feet, her body rigid, wondering if she had made the right decision. Oliver held a kind hand out to her once more. A test of sorts to see her willingness to try.

"A pleasure to meet you Miss Hatcher," Oliver smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow at nine a.m. for our next appointment."

Kathryn looked to the pale hand in front of her, thinking a moment and taking a deep breath before slowly slipping her right hand into his grip. She was surprised to find that despite its cool temperature that it was quite fine to have his hand around her own. It was the large, smooth hand of a scholar. Oliver felt a shiver go through him at the feel of her skin, relishing in is warmth, comfort and above all its softness.

But the moment was soon broken as Frank grabbed her wrist, pulling her from Oliver's grasp, guiding her out the door and back into the madness of Briarcliff.


	5. Chapter 5

_Dominique_ played in the background as Lana stared out the barred window of the common room. Her mind felt frazzled after the morning's ECT treatment. She couldn't believe how Jude just looked down at her, letting it happen for no good reason. She was the real monster.

 _Remember everything._

Lana glanced around the common room, despising every lost soul she encountered the gaze of. Her eyes were drawn to the visage of a young woman at the piano, plunking out a sad tune with a forefinger looking terribly depressed. She looked over at Lana, her dark hair and eyes making her look like an inkblot. Lana wondered what she was in for. She didn't look like the rest of the forgotten here. She looked well scrubbed, alert and non medicated.

A guard was watching over her closely and Lana could only assume she was a high risk individual.

The girl, feeling as if she were being watched glanced over at Lana, seeing the burns at the woman's temple and nodding gently in mutual sympathy. Embarrassed, Lana touched the scorch marks at her temples before struggling to recall the last 24 hours, her hands scribbling the notes down on her scrap of paper.

' _Don't forget. Burning flesh. Sister Jude's face_.'

The door to the common room opened and in walked Bloody Face. Although he was known to others as Kit Walker. He shot her a look before joining Grace behind her smoking on the sofa. Lana could hear the the nearly muted whispers from Grace

"I can't do it," Kit whispered urgently. "I can't fake crazy. What I need to do is escape this place now before he files that report and I'm screwed."

Monster. Get out so he could kill more innocent young women?

Lana's mind drifted back to the conversation behind her. They were discussing the bakery and escaping that way. Lana scribbled hurriedly on her scrap of paper before she forgot.

' _Bloody Face. Psychopath_.'

Oliver sighed as he entered into Briarcliff the next morning. The entire night had left him feeling restless and confused. Briarcliff was like a strange dream of which he could not wake. Soft hands and dark eyes had haunted his sleep and he had woken irritable and exhausted.

 _Kathryn Hatcher._

He tried not to think of her as anything but his patient. It wouldn't be professional to think of her any other way. He tried to make his mind focus on something else. Kit Walker and the boy's trial as he combed his dark hair into a perfect part that morning. But now, entering into those darkened hallways once more and making his way to his office Oliver couldn't think of anyone else.

It had been what she said. That feeling of abandonment so acutely worded that he had barely been able to think of anything else. His attention was caught by an older nun that he hadn't run into yet.

"Sister Jude?" Oliver fell in step with the aged nun at his side who wore a sour expression of disinterest.

"Ahhh, Doctor Thredson, the court appointed psychiatrist. Seeing our killer of women I trust? So what's it going to be? Spare the tax payers the expense of a trial or will I have a bed opening up?"

Oliver could barely believe the cavalier attitude this woman held at the life of another. Her cynicism pervaded every word punctuated with her drawling accent that made Doctor come out 'doc-tah'.

"Might we speak privately about the conditions here?" he inquired, opening the door to the main corridor.

"Conditions? What conditions might those be?"

As Oliver recounted the appalling abuse and malpractice he'd seen in his short time there, Jude's face grew more puckered with irritation.

"It's a madhouse Doctor," she grimaced. "What did you expect?"

Oliver could feel his face contorting into barely suppressed fury. Who did this woman think she was to care so little for her charges? To think that this was somehow acceptable behavior? He thought of poor Kathryn Hatcher being thrown around like a rag the manhandling of Kit as he was brought in for his initial assessment or of the poor woman crying out against her mouth gag as volts of electricity shot through her brain that he'd seen in one of the cell's.

"I expected some form of treatment," he ground out angrily. "Therapy."

He continued on, his voice rising slightly as Jude glared down at him from a few steps up the spiraling staircase. The woman looked down at him with a look of unending frustrating and disgust. Men like Thredson were weak, in her opinion. Weak-willed and weak-minded. They were soft and unsure and scared to do anything that might get their precious hands dirty. She knew he couldn't care less about the souls within these stone walls.

"You know what Doctor Thredson? Lemme remind you. You're job is here is to write a recommendation to the court regarding the sanity of one patient," she raised a crooked finger and wagged in his face. "So I suggest you do your job and let me do mine."

Oliver frowned wanting to say more when Jude's attention was drawn upstairs.

"Now if you'll excuse me," she continued on as if the conversation had been remotely civil. "There's another unfortunate family who requires our care."

Lana watched Grace from her tub across the room. The two of them had been brought in for bathing. Lana wondered how often this luxury would occur. She had tried not to be humiliated when she was lowered into the scalding water before they tied the large tarp over her. She watched as they did the same to Grace before leaving them along with nothing but the sound of water to entertain them. Lana watched as Grace fiddled with something under her tarp.

It moved up and down quickly as she cut herself from her ties in the bath. Lana felt claustrophobic and far too hot in hers. And as Grace stepped her lean frame out of the tub and undid Lana's ties, she couldn't help but feel that familiar twinge of lust at the girl's naked form. Wendy. Lana shook her from her mind, her heart hard.

Grace looked forlornly out into the bleak day, her frame lean and taut. She had seemed knowledgeable when talking to Kit. Maybe she would know of some way to escape?

 _Can I trust her?_

"Do you ever dream of escaping?" Lana finally offered breathlessly. She could feel the steam being let out at the cool air touched her frame.

"All you new people," Grace offered with a humorless laugh. "There is no way out."

"What if I said I knew a way?" Lana offered, suddenly desperate for the girl's attention. She threw the bath wrap off of her shoulders.

Grace looked over her shoulder with a bored and irritated expression.

"I'd say you were full of shit."

"There's a tunnel," Lana said, raising herself from the tub and walking over to where Grace stood against the pipes looking casually at her. "It's real. I came in through it. I need someone to help me pull of an escape but nobody else can know."

"You have to take Kit," Grace offered, not as a suggestion but as a command. Her thoughts were clear and her voice betrayed nothing but dark confidence.

"Absolutely not," Lana replied shaking her head roughly. "He's a vicious murderer. They can make you believe anything."

Grace eyed Lana with large green orbs, almost entrancing as she spoke.

"There have been a lot of murderers here," she said lowly, never breaking eye contact. "Kit's not one of them."

Oliver walked into Sister Jude's office, still feeling the sting of irritation from when she'd rebuffed speaking with him earlier. How could she be alright with the monstrosities taking place here at Briarcliff? Why was no one doing anything about it?

A middle aged couple, the Potters, glanced back at him looking pale and peaked. He felt immediately that something sinister was going on and he thrust himself into the room.

"I'm sorry," Oliver offered to the room walking to the desk in the center. "I didn't mean to interrupt. We haven't finished our conversation Sister Jude, I didn't realize you had company."

Jude eyed him in irritation as he turned to face the Potters.

"I'm Doctor Thredson," Oliver offered, shaking their hands. "The psychiatrist here. I'm at your service."

"You need to _leave,_ Doctor." Jude's voice was thick with meaning as she rose to a standing position.

The Potters protested, insisting that a doctor may be of use. Oliver tried to conceal the smirk directed at Jude that was playing on his lips before glancing back at the Potters.

"How can I help?"

A seventeen year old boy. He saw things. Heard things. All these things Oliver could have been prepared for. The eating of a live cow's heart however, was a shock.

Seeing the boy tied to the bed of a cell made him appear weak and fragile. As he called out for his mother Oliver wondered if perhaps this had been a giant overreaction to a young man's mental illness. But when the young man attempted to bite Oliver as he tried to administer a general exam Oliver saw the danger he presented.

But an exorcism?

He'd tried to refuse. He had an appointment with Miss Hatcher that afternoon. He didn't have time for silly games like this.

They'd forced him to cancel and Oliver felt the cold sting of irritation. But what could he do? He couldn't leave this poor young man, Jed, under the complete control of these religious lunatics! Oliver could barely believe it had been approved! By Timothy himself! Bringing in some type of specialist, Father Malachi to aid in it? Oliver couldn't believe as a licensed physician he would have to be party to this lunacy.

He thought then how he would relish aiding in the closing down of Briarcliff as soon as possible. Oliver made his way shakily into the room seeing the young boy frightened as he was restrained to the bed. The room was warm and sticky already. Oliver walked over, preparing to assist with the restraints. He needed this experience to be over.

"You're hurting me," Jed cried out pathetically. "Please stop."

Oliver's hands momentarily stilled on the restraints, his conscience getting the better of him.

"Don't listen to it," Malachi barked. "The demon is a liar. If it speaks to you don't answer it, just do your job."

Oliver placed a finger against the boy's wrist feeling for a heartbeat. It was there dimly but faint.

"My God this boys pulse is almost non-existent."

Without warning the boy flailed upwards, raising the bed with him. And so the exorcism began. Jed laughed gutturally as sister Jude was asked to leave. But then he began to twist and moan crying out in Latin.

 _Schizophrenia_ , Oliver thought resolutely as he grabbed the stethoscope from his briefcase, thrusting it against the boy's chest and checking his vitals.

"Heart increasing, blood pressure rising," he called out to anyone who would listen.

The boy grew still, his voice calm. " _Oliver._ "

Without thinking, Oliver glanced up at the boy's voice and saw a face which was now covered in ugly black veins. The teeth blackened and the eyes alight with some sinister force within. What could have caused this coloring? The boy had been fine on hours before. Was it something neurological that was manifesting into something physical?

"Look at you," Jed whispered to him in that same low yet feminine tone. "I see what you've become and I'm glad I gave you up."

Oliver felt his pulse jump as he pulled the stethoscope plugs from his ears, his eyes wide and unblinking as he backed away from the bed. How did this monster know? How could he possibly know about his mother?

"Don't listen to it, Doctor" Father Malachi at his left implored.

Oliver threw himself back from the scene, his heart hammering at the words.

 _I'm glad I gave you up._

How did he know he was an orphan? The boy was ranting and raving in Latin on the bed, his voice ghastly and out-worldly. Oliver watched in mute horror as the bible in the priest's hand went flying past him and against the wall soon followed by the priest himself. Oliver and Timothy rushed to the man's side, pulling him up and out of the room.

When he was safely out Timothy rushed down the staircase demanding Jude join them upstairs. Oliver watched wordlessly as she walked into the room fearlessly, closing the door behind her. And for a moment he thought he felt a twinge of respect for her.

"Now do you believe, Doctor?" Timothy panted, his face slick with sweat. "That there are things in this world that cannot be explained away by science?"

Oliver said nothing, his body feeling keyed up at the entire exchange. Everything that was happening went against what he was trained. Schizophrenia could do many things to a person but it couldn't throw a man from a wheelchair. The sound of Jude's screams drew his attention and he threw the door open to see her shaking the young man violently. Timothy and Oliver threw themselves through the door, Timothy pulling her off of him roughly as Oliver tended to the young man, pressing his frantic frame back against the bed.

"Protect your whore!" The young boy shouted at Timothy and Jude as the door slammed behind them as Oliver watched them go.

Eerie silence settled over the two figures in the room and finally, he forced himself to glance down at the young man, seeing the features contorted into an ugly grin as he stared unblinkingly back up at him.

"Ahhhhhhhhhh," the boy sighed, almost contentedly. "Now that we're alone we can really chat. I love your work, _Bloody Face._ "

Oliver backed away slowly, removing his hands from the man's chest. This was a strange and fascination thing happening. Something that he couldn't quite name. He felt the stone of the wall against his fingertips and he wished he had a cigarette. The voice came back to him ominous and foreboding.

"I see you're amassing quite the collection Oliver. Well done. No mother yet though."

Oliver was silent, his eyes wide and his heart began to hammer uncomfortably loudly within his chest. Oliver knew what Jed was talking about. But how on earth could he know about his collection? How could he know about the mask? He remained silent, knowing that to admit anything would only fuel the young monster's desire as well as incriminate him.

 _This is a parlour trick. Think of something calm and peaceful. Don't let him get into your head. Don't show him your fear._

Without forethought his mind turned to Kathryn. Her dark eyes and her soft hands. A sense of calm flooded through him. There was something about that girl that stuck to his insides. A feeling of knowing and being known. The boy on the bed was looking over, seeing as Oliver clenched his eyes tightly.

"Don't you just love her flesh, Oliver? Wouldn't you just love to _wear_ it?"

Oliver's eyes opened rapidly at the words, his upper lip dotted with perspiration. Was this boy a psychic to know his thoughts? Was that even possible? He felt unwound and confused and wanted nothing more than to leave the room. Where was Timothy?

"Oh don't worry about him, Oliver. This is about you and me and your newest interest," Jed rasped. "Hmmmmmmmm... She doesn't know what she's in for. You want something different from her. Different from the rest."

Oliver was silent but the voice droned on.

"You don't want her for a Mommy. You want to fix her. You think that'll make up for all the mistakes you've made in the past."

"There is a rational explanation for your behavior," Oliver finally managed to speak, wanting to regain control of the situation. He stepped forward slightly, his hands up in civil surrender. "If you would simply co-operate I would be more than happy-"

The lights flickered angrily.

"Does she know?" the boy interrupted with a blackened smile. "That you touched yourself thinking of her soft hands last night Doctor? That you want them wrapped around your cock? That doesn't seem very professional does it? She is your patient after all."

Oliver blanched at the ugliness of the words but his mind flitted back to last night in his home, under the sheets, sweaty and moaning-

"You're thinking of her right now aren't you?" that cruel disembodied voice broke into his thoughts. Oliver was silent, his cheeks reddening slightly. He clenched his fists at his sides, his breathing attempting to become regulated. Whatever was happening was a trick of the brain, not some other-worldly happening.

 _Regain control._

"We're not so different," the boy whispered menacingly as he saw the reaction caused in Oliver. "We both know what we want and we go for it. There's no shame in that. Only what you want doesn't exist. She can't give it to you. No one can. You'll never be normal, Oliver."

Oliver knew that speaking was pointless. Instead he closed his eyes, trying to push the words from around him. He could feel the sweat dripping down his chest, soaking the front of his button down. He wanted to leave the room but knew it to be impossible. He couldn't legally leave this young man alone when in such a state.

"She'll abandon you, Oliver," the voice of the Potter boy rasped hatefully, the eyes glowing with an inhuman light."She'll never understand. And when you finally tell her she'll leave you just like your own mother did."

Oliver pressed further into the wall at the corner of the room, his body tensed for the next verbal onslaught when Timothy barged into the room. Oliver gazed at the man as Timothy raised a crucifix and began the exorcism once more. The boy howled and the lights in the room and the rest of Briarcliff began to sputter and flicker. The holy water burned against the boy's face, causing him to flail like a fish out of water.

The boy was going to die.

This fact affronted him radically. Oliver felt the clinician in him step forward and he grasped the needle in the stand nearby.

"There's no more time for prayers Monsignor," Oliver finally sputtered, pulling the medication into the needle. "His heart can't handle it. I need to sedate him!"

Oliver pressed the needle into the young man's side and at once the bulb at his head burnt out angrily.

"He's in cardiac arrest," Oliver observed hurriedly performing the CPR necessary. His hands folded atop the boys chest, trying to revive him. The boy's mouth was quickly foaming and although he continued he knew it was fruitless. Without warning the boy darted up, his eyes lost in the darkness as he stared ahead of him a split second before collapsing once more onto the bed. Oliver felt for a pulse.

"He's dead."

At his words the crucifix fell from the wall onto the floor and without warning Sister Mary Eunice who had scrambled behind Sister Jude at the door fell backwards to the floor.

A red light flashed angrily from outside her cell, waking Lana. She rubbed her eyes in surprise, seeing that the door to her cell was slowly being opened independently. Lana rushed from her cot into the mass of individuals wandering from their rooms into the hallway. She spotted Grace looking confused as she exited her own room, looking around in a daze.

"What's happening?" she offered in her clipped French accent.

"I don't know... Power failure? This is our chance."

Boldly Lana reached out and grabbed the young woman's wrist, guiding her down the hallway. Feeling emboldened at the decision she rushed through the people, careful not to let her bare footsteps make too much noise. They came upon the door to the tunnel quickly, their bodies moving quickly.

They were so close to freedom.

Lana felt a smile cracking her lips as she thought of Wendy. Even her anger was dissapating at the thought of a reunion with her. Out of the darkness of Briarcliff.

"Grace!"

A male voice called out behind them breaking her thoughts. Lana cringed as Kit made his way over to them looking nervous and frightened. Lana looked from one individual to another. Had she betrayed her so easily? Lana felt the cold anger begin to wash through her.

"Come on," Grace finally muttered. "Lana knows a way out."

"No, he can't come with us," Lana insisted angrily before turning her attention on Kit. "Stay away from us."

"I'm not a killer or a psychopath!" Kit exclaimed, his gaze appearing wounded. He was quite the actor.

"You're a liar," Lana spat. "Get away from us."

"Stop," Grace insisted, pulling her wrist from Lana's grasp. "I'm not leaving without him."

The two of them joined hands in front of her and began their decent to the tunnel. Lana watched in mute horror as Bloody Face himself made his way to precious freedom, free to kill again. It was either freedom for all or for none.

And so she made her choice.

"HELP!" She shrieked loudly, much to the surprise of Kit and Grace who motioned for her to quiet down. "HE'S ESCAPING! THE KILLER IS ESCAPING! HELP ME! IN THE HALLWAY HE'S TRYING TO GET OUT!"

She saw the desperation on Kit's face as the guards came from behind Lana and apprehended the two patients. Lana watched as they brutally tossed Kit and Grace around like rag dolls, their faces angry and their hands in fists. They pummelled Kit relentlessly as the young man stood passively by.

Why wasn't he fighting back?

Without warning Lana saw Frank raise a nightstick angrily above his head and bash him repeatedly in the face. Blood spurted like an angry fountain from Kit's nose and the young man lay immobile on the cement floor. Grace called out to him and screamed at Lana, her eyes full of vitriolic hatred.

Lana felt the tears fall down her face as she realized that she may have been terribly wrong.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Two Weeks

Oliver groaned as his alarm next to his bed went off. Seven a.m. had arrived so quickly and he felt quite weary from yesterday's events. Jed's horrific face and voice had haunted him all evening with his dark taunts and cruel words.

 _I see what you've become and I'm glad I gave you up._

Oliver turned on his side, his body taut with tight muscles. He rubbed his eyes several times harshly. He had to focus on bigger things today. Every day that slipped by was a day not productive. Oliver rose from the bed, discarding his pajamas into the hamper before jumping into the shower, letting the warm water saturate his every pore. He washed his hair slowly, his mind turning to what awaited him when he arrived at Briarcliff. A meeting with Mr. Walker and then a meeting with Miss Hatcher.

 _Does she know that you touched yourself thinking of her soft hands last night Doctor?_

Oliver turned the water icy at that memory, jumping as it pelted down on his shoulders like small needles. When he could take no more he leapt from the shower, drying himself and continuing his morning routine. With every stroke of his toothbrush and button of his shirt he told himself not to think of last night's experience.

"I am a professional," he unblinkingly told his reflection in the mirror as he did the last loop of his dark tie. "I have nothing but the best interest for my clients."

Oliver smirked a bit at that last comment as he thought of Kit Walker taking the rap for his crimes. In Oliver's mind it seemed completely fair. The boy was disturbed and needed to be put away. Whereas jeopardizing his own career and life would make no sense. Oliver did a lot for his community - contributing many hours of free counselling for the less fortunate in his community. He was an upstanding citizen and to see him taken out of such a community would be to their detriment. Kit Walker was a gas station attendant, easily missed.

 _She'll abandon you, Oliver._

Why did that monstrous voice keep interrupting his thoughts? Turning them to _her_. Kathryn Hatcher. A uniquely fascinating case. But not someone who could fill the gap his mother's abandonment had left within him. He frowned darkly at that thought, wondering who ever could?

The journalist could.

 _He'd overheard her outside Briarcliff the morning of Kit's induction. She had been a very maternal figure, pretty and trim. She had a gentle, kind voice. She was ambitious that much was evident by her back and forth with one of the detectives awaiting Kit's arrival. She deflected his sexist remarks about her columns urging him to give her some piece of information on Bloody Face, insisting she was the right woman for the job._

 _"A woman's touch eh?" the detective offered with a rudes laugh._

 _"Yes. Exactly," Lana replied haughtily. "That's what's been missing from this story. You think this mook's just some monster. But no monsters starts out this way. He was somebody's precious baby, crying out for his mommy."_

And in that moment Oliver knew he'd have to know more about her.

She was the first person to understand that part of the problem.

Monsters weren't born monsters.

He had been created through years of abuse and neglect.

And now this woman, this motherly figure seemed to understand.

He had read her file along with Kits and Kathryn's upon finding out she had been admitted.

 _Lana Winters 33, a journalist and homosexual._

Interesting. No other man or child in her life to detract attention away from him, should the need arise.

Oliver took the dark tube of Brylcreem from the drawer in his bathroom, rubbing it through his hair slowly as he gazed into his pale reflection in the mirror. Handsome, professional, sensitive. He looked like any other man on the outside. He idly wondered what the world would be like if people were viewed for their inner worlds and thoughts. Would people run from him?

Is that what had made his mother leave? She had been able to tell at his birth that something wasn't quite right with him? At times he would admit that this quiet desperation upset him. This need for something that seemed so elusive and illusory that it made him frustrated and at times furious. Why wasn't he like the other men who drank and fucked and lived the life they wanted without recourse?

Then another part of him would speak part of him that recalled his Mother's abandonment. The raising in an orphanage that refused affection and let him know the harsh sting of a riding crop when disobedient.

But how could one rectify those feelings of abandonment and move forward? Perhaps Miss Hatcher herself held the answer to this inquiry as they began their foray into her psyche. Oliver made the silent resolution to ensure that his meeting with Kathryn this morning went successfully.

Oliver smoothed his dark and now glossy hair, combing it neatly into his respectable style ensuring the part on the right was perfectly straight before slipping on his glasses and heading out the door.

Lana walked into the common room on shaky legs to see the residents of Briarcliff engaged in a variety of activity. Some masturbating furiously. Some absently doing a puzzle. The same dark haired young woman sitting by the window now, looking upset. She drew over to the girl, watching as she glanced up at her approaching figure.

"Hi," Lana offered with a kind smile. "I'm Lana."

"Nice to meet you," the girl nodded in lieu of a handshake, her dark eyes looking lost and haunted. "I'm Kathryn. Aren't you a writer? I think I've read your columns before."

"A few," Lana nodded, unsure of how much information to share. She drew to the lip of the window, sitting on it across from the dark haired girl. "I'm here again my will."

"Step in line," Kathryn offered with a dry laugh.

Lana was about to reply when she saw Kit and Grace in a heated discussion over by the chess set. Deciding to slip by them and avoid a fight she left Kathryn, preparing to charge through the doors. It was no use, it was only seconds before Grace viewed Lana and rushed at her in fury.

"You ruined our chance of getting out of this place," she spat at an unimpressed Lana.

"I'd do it again if it means I can stop him from killing anymore," Lana replied passionately. She felt the hot anger running through her veins as Grace looked at her with such anger. It was Grace who had conspired against her with Kit! It was Grace who had foiled their own planned escape! It was this stupid French bitch who had ruined their entire undertaking and now she had the gall to get furious with Lana?

Kit appeared at Grace's shoulder, giving Lana a look of complete understanding. She was surprised to see such tenderness in the face of a man she had caused so much pain in. The last time she had seen him he had been thrust over Sister Jude's desk getting the lashing of his life. And yet, he still looked at her with that unflinching kindness.

"I can't say I blame ya," Kit replied to her, his eyes soft."I'd have done the same if I believed what you believe. But I'm innocent."

As he spoke the words, for the first time Lana believed him. She knew she shouldn't but a part of her believed the earnest boy in front of her.

"Walker," A guard interrupted, motioning for Kit to follow. "Dr. Arden wants to see you."

Kit cast one last hopeful look at Lana before following the guard out the door. As Lana watched his sorrowful frame exit the room she wondered idly if she had misjudged Kit Walker completely.

Sister Jude punched the dough in front of her angrily. This entire morning had been a fiasco. First the pinhead had been found hoarding more and more food under her bed despite the constant warning of rats. The poor girl never seemed to get the message and Jude had to admit she had a soft spot for her. The kitchen was silent and she worked vigorously to shake off the horrors of yesterday and the Potter boy. The things he had said to her... Jude shivered at the memory.

And then this morning, by some sick chance the mail had been dropped off. And inside the article from her hit and run. In 1949. The poor girl she'd killed. Who's sick idea of a joke was this? She felt tears starting at the back of her eyes, her hands drawing to her face. She was still lost in thought when Dr. Thredson walked in casually, his dark eyes scanning her suspiciously through his glasses.

"Everything alright sister?"

She jumped at the sound of his voice behind her. He walked around the island in the kitchen until he was standing in front of her.

"Inclement weather," She replied thickly, her attention on the dough."Always upsets the natives. They're fragile souls."

"That's why you should stop using corporal punishment," Oliver replied plainly, his face peering into her own. "At our meeting yesterday Mr. Walker couldn't even sit down."

Ah, yes. Mr. Walker. _Bloody Face_. Found along with the Axe Murderer trying to escape, turned in by the Lesbian.

Jude smirked at the memory of Lana's face as she had to watch the others get paddled within an inch of their lives. Jude idly wondered if it was truly wrong to enjoy that punishment. She was doing it for their own good but was she supposed to delight in it so much?

Oliver was droning on and on in front of her about her lack of compassion and she finally snapped her neck up to face him fully.

"Me? I am a beacon of compassion," she replied furiously. "In fact I spent all morning on the phone with St. Angela parish to borrow their movie projector. I thought a movie could distract our charges when the storm hits."

Oliver was surprised at this admission. He hadn't pegged Jude for a cinephile and he told her so, offering his help if she needed it.

"Oh yes," Oliver added as he prepared to leave the kitchen. "As attending physician of Jed Potter I'll need his autopsy report for my files"

He needed so such thing. He had no one who would need to see it, but he did want to go over the case himself in the luxury of his home. The boys case had been a bizarre and fascinating one and one that Oliver couldn't seem to wrap his head around even now in the cold light of day.

"I'm very busy Doctor," Jude replied, her eyes on the dough in front of her. "But I'll try to locate it."

"I'll bet it said he died of natural causes," Oliver bated.

"If it's natural for a 17-year-old boy to die of a heart attack," Jude bit back.

"You have quite a suspicious mind Sister, bordering on delusional." Oliver retorted, irritated at the woman's constant desire to undermine him. "Or maybe it's just a form of projection? A defense to protect your own guilty conscience."

Jude gazed up into the haughty face of Dr. Thredson and felt her heart stammer. This creature in front of her - it had been him. It had to be. He hated her and this was his way of slowly torturing her. "It was you, wasn't it?" Oliver looked confusedly at Sister Jude. She looked frightened of him. But why?

"The newspaper," she whispered, her body growing still ."Where did you get it?"

Oliver wrinkled his nose in confusion. "What newspaper?"

"That office we gave you. I need it back," Jude said after faltering a moment. "You've had more than enough time to advise the courts. You've got two weeks and then you're out."

She punctuated the last word by slamming the dough onto the counter, causing Oliver to flinch before he headed out the door, unable to say anything more to her. He had been given his deadline and he had to comply.

 _Two weeks_ , he thought miserably as he considered all the lost souls within Briarcliff who would benefit from his counsel. Who could he truly help in two weeks?

Kathryn watched as Oliver entered into the common room, his back straight and his figure looked in command, his body language fixated on what needed to be accomplished. Kathryn looked up from her novel, _Rabbit Run._ She loved to escape into worlds that were so unlike her own. And a novel dealing with a loveless marriage was so far away from the institute she was currently station at that she had leapt at the chance to re-read it.

She noted as she peered over her novel that he was focussed on talking with two of the handy men. It looked as if they were preparing to set up some sort of screen. _So the rumors of a movie night tomorrow are true,_ Kathryn observed detachedly before her attention was fixated back on Dr Thredson. He had his back to her and didn't notice her frame snugly against the window.

"Our meeting," she thought absently glancing up at the clock on the other side of the room. Not for anothe hour. She felt a twist in her stomach as she thought of their meeting and what it would entail. She knew she was going to have to open up about some very ugly, cruel things. She was goin to have to face her fear of intimacy. All things that caused her feel lightheaded and slightly nauseated.

Doctor Thredson said something that amused the workers and they laughed loudly before making their way up the ladder to hang the screen for the picture show. Dr. Thredson stared up at them, his gaze fixated on any adjustment that needed to be made. She realized she enjoyed watching him from this vantage point, not knowing he was being watched. For once she had the upper hand with this Oliver Thredson. He seemed more at ease, his movements more fluid when he didn't know he was being watched.

He had his arms crossed, casually smoking his cigarette. She saw the straight part in his hair, the suit perfectly fitted to his tall frame. No wedding ring and an unending level of patience.

"I hear he's a homosexual," Shelley purred, pulled a seat next to Kathryn. "A shame. He's quite easy on the eyes isn't he?"

Kathryn glanced over her shoulder at the girl, alarmed by the brightness of the woman's eyes and the closeness of her proximity. She had heard rumors of the girl's history involving sailors and judging by her way of talk and severity of punishments, this was accurate.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Kathryn replied primly, her attention being drawn back to her novel.

"Sure you do," Shelley chuckled darkly, parting her knees as she leaned forward. "You're looking at that tall hunk of sex right there thinking about it just like every other woman in here. Its natural. Biological even. Women need sex just as much as men but they never admit it."

Kathryn ducked her head, her cheeks enflamed at the girl's words. She'd never heard anyone speak so plainly about sex before. It was titillating as well as humiliating. She couldn't help but let her gaze drift back up to Dr. Thredson. He was tilting his head slightly, trying to see the best angle for the white screen.

"A little lower on the right there," Oliver offered helpfully as the men righted the screen, his voice silken. They did as instructed. "Perfect, thank you gentlemen."

She watched as he walked to where the nurses had left out a pitcher of water and some glasses. Lana saw him, her attention piqued. This was the therapist she had heard so much about from Shelley. The one who defied Sister Jude and seemed to be much more aware than the rest of the monsters working here. Stubbing her cigarette out she rushed over to the tall man.

Kathryn watched as Lana approached Oliver, her body flighty with nerves. They conversed conspiratorially between one another, and Kathryn noted that Oliver's gaze was very intense, almost predatory.

Lana tentatively held out a piece of paper a moment, looking as if she were urging the man to take it. Oliver grasped it quickly after a moment of indecision, surprising the woman as he put it in his breast pocket. He gave Lana a meaningful look before walking away, towards the doors. He had a strange smirk on his face as he headed to the doors and Lana looked as if she were prepared to jump for joy.

Thredson walked through the common room, his eyes alight before they landed on Kathryn, huddled at the corner of the room. Kathryn stiffened under his gaze, unsure of how to react. Had he heard Shelley's comments? If he had, he gave no indication. Instead he flashed her a warm smile and a quick nod of the head before heading out the doors and into the hallway.

Kathryn felt her cheeks redden as she felt Shelley's eyes on her.

"It's all right," Shelly whispered into the girl's ear before she got up to leave. "Its just biology."

He couldn't believe it. Oliver was gobsmacked as he headed back into his office, the address of a Wendy Peyser in his breast pocket and his heart thudding with possibility. The maternal woman from that day at Briarcliff. She was here. She was perfect. Not too old or young. Her eyes were kind and her body looked soft and motherly. She had come to him! It was she who had initiated contact!

She had smiled at him - looked at him as if she were indebted to him. He could barely believe his good luck. Now, how to insinuate himself into her world? Therapy of course! Her homosexuality proved the perfect stepping stone to gaining trust! But two weeks. He had a lot to get done in two weeks. Suddenly there was a small rap at his door interrupting his thoughts.

"Come in."

Kathryn entered the room slowly, wearing a bulky sweater over her blue uniformed dress. She looked nervous to see him, her eyes darting around the office. She closed the door gently behind her, leaving a large space between them as she spoke.

"I'm sorry if I'm a bit late," Kathryn said gently, looking almost embarrassed. "I finished my book slower than expected."

In truth she had tried to get out of seeing the doctor by faking cramps but Sister Jude had seen right through it. While she may not have enjoyed the tiresome Dr. Thredson, she would not allow any of her charges to go against his orders. In a most severe tone she had given Kathryn two options - Dr. Thredson or the paddle. Kathryn had decided quite quickly that Dr. Thredson was slightly less frightening than a bladed paddle to the rear.

"Not a problem at all," Oliver replied, smiling a bit too widely. "Please come in, Miss Hatcher."

Oliver found it hard to maintain composure around the girl today. He was so keyed up with his run in with Lana Winters that he could barely contain his glee. Yet he managed a facade of professional detachment as she moved to sit across from him.

"I see we're no longer in cuffs," Oliver observed cordially folding his hands on the desk between them.

"Nope," Kathryn smirked shyly holding her free wrists up for him to see. "Good behavior will do that."

Oliver smiled briefly at that before opening his file on Kathryn. His eyes scanned what he had read as if he hadn't already memorized every word. He tapped a tapered forefinger along some words before nodding as if silently agreeing with something.

"Now in our last session we ended on the subject of intimacy."

"Yes," Kathryn nodded uncomfortably. "I was hoping we could put that subject off...just a bit."

"Well," Oliver weighed her words. "The problem is that intimacy and your anxiety and depression are quite wrapped up in one another. It's not a matter of extrapolation as much as it is an issue of finding the core root of the problem. It may be intimacy it may be something entirely different but we need to unearth that together. What I'm asking is that you trust me, Miss Hatcher."

"But how can I trust you?" Kathryn implored earnestly, feeling desperation bubble within her chest. "I've only known you for two days. It's hard to be open with someone who's practically a stranger."

"Very astute observation," Oliver nodded, closing the file gently, letting his eyes linger on the girl's face a moment too long before looking out the window in mock concentration. "Well then. What would you like to know about me?"

Kathryn looked taken aback at this. In all her counselling through the church none of them had ever offered any background on their own life. It seemed strange to have this grown man looking at her, lighting a new cigarette and waiting expectantly for her to quiz him on his life.

"I don't understand."

"You said moments ago that it was hard to share your life with a stranger. I completely agree. I'm asking quite a lot of you. Unfortunately as of this morning I have two weeks to complete my findings with the Kit Walker case before I am unceremoniously turned from the building," Oliver took a long drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke slowly as he continued."So in order to expedite the process of bonding and trust, I suggest you ask me some hard questions yourself and we can hopefully move on from there. What do you think?" Kathryn blinked at his response, her mind flipping a moment.

What did she want to ask him? She recalled him starting with her childhood and so she began there, taking on an air of authority as she quizzed him.

"Were you an only child?"

"As far as I know, yes."

There was a small pause on her end. "You were adopted?"

"I grew up in an orphanage."

Kathryn could sense the cold seeping into his features. The dark brown eyes that had once been so warm were now growing flinty and unresponsive. His left hand had inadvertently started to turn into a fist, the knuckles turning a deathly shade of white. She immediately felt poorly for bringing up that which was obviously a hurtful topic.

"I'm sorry," Kathryn said softly, determined to change the subject to something safe. "Favorite color?"

"Red."

"Mine too," Kathryn offered with a shy chuckle, joyful to have found a connection between them regardless of how tenuous. "Did you always want to be a psychiatrist?"

"I always knew I wanted to help people," Oliver replied evenly, his small smile beginning to warm now. "And becoming a psychiatrist seemed like the natural next step. The more I learned about people the more I wanted to learn."

"Favorite pastime?"

"Making furniture. I find it relaxing to work with my hands."

"Are you married? Children?"

"No and no."

"Never married?"

"Never."

"Are you a whoopsie, Doctor Thredson?"

Oliver's lips quirked at the side at her inquiry. "What makes you say that?"

Kathryn ducked her hair in embarrassment. Obviously she had been incorrect. Damn Shelley and her big mouth. She felt like she wanted the earth to swallow her entirely at that moment, her face growing hot.

"I overheard some of the girl's in the common room saying..." Kathryn trailed off looking absolutely dejected now. She couldn't believe she had spoken the words aloud. She continued, unable to stop. "And you're always dressed so nice and no wife and, well, it doesn't matter and I'm done asking questions now so let's move onto the next subject if thats alright."

Kathryn looked at her hands placed in her lap, trying not to choke on the hot humiliation that was crawling up her face. She heard a low chuckle from across the table, watching as Oliver smiled broadly at her before schooling his features.

"No, Miss Hatcher. I am not a whoopsie. I am just a man with a very busy schedule."

Kathryn didn't know what else to say and so Oliver continued on, his lips still kinked in a small smirk glancing at her before looking back to his notes.


	7. Chapter 7

The morning of the storm began like any other. It was grey and misty and a bit windy but nothing out of the ordinary. By the afternoon it had picked up to a gale-force wind and Kit noted nervously that the light in Doctor Thredson's office kept flickering, threatening to extinguish altogether. Oliver was in a poor mood, looking exhausted and distracted. Kit wondered why he was even here in the first place.

Dr. Thredson was looking through something on his desk, a smoke hanging between his lips and his eyes ringed with fatigue.

"Looks like it's gonna be an awful big storm," Kit offered by way of making conversation.

Oliver glanced up from his notes distractedly, his eyebrows knitted in confusion before glancing out the window and looking at the blustery day.

Of course, the storm. In his rush to leave the house today Oliver had completely forgotten. He hoped that he'd be able to leave before this evening when it got worse. The storms in this city had been especially bad the last few years.

"I apologize Kit," Oliver said, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes harshly. "I've had quite the caseload and its left me feeling rather depleted, I'm afraid."

What he had actually done last night was far more sinister than casework. He had gone to the home of Wendy Peyser and stabbed her repeatedly until she had been drained of life. He'd tried to keep her face in fair condition for Lana's sake. Then he'd heaved her into his car and then into his home. It was strange having her in one piece, kept on ice in his deepfreeze in the basement.

He'd never kept one alive intact before and it kept him up all night. A strange childlike part of him was fearful she would rise from her cold coffin and come for him. He knew it was a dark fear but still, it had caused his sleep to be restless and his body trembled until dawn.

"I wanted to speak more about Alma and the men from outer space," Thredson finally continued, readjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "I want you to tell me everything you believed to have happened, step by step."

And so Kit recounted the same story almost word for word as his prior confession. Oliver frowned as the boy continued, believing his own falsehoods. He could barely believe that Kit could sit there, looking him straight in the face and tell these bombastic lies!

Oliver nodded as Kit spoke, writing down notes here and there but mostly his mind drifted to Kathryn and their meeting yesterday. It was she who had inadvertently convinced him to act on his plan of taking out Wendy last night. He hadn't wanted to kill Wendy at first, instead just lock her up in the basement until Lana's arrival. A sort of welcome present of sorts.

But Kathryn had sat there asking if he was a whoopsie. At first Oliver had been amused at the thought, even finding her embarrassment endearing. But as their session wore on her words continued to crowd his head. A whoopsie. Did she think him non-masculine? He felt his bravado falter as their session wore on and he had questioned her further on her family life.

Not much had been discovered there. A child left home with her imagination and freedom. Scholastically excelling and building a few close relationships. Nothing had stuck out as particularly sinister. They had parted promising to resume work the next evening before the movie started. But the day's events had still unsettled him. Jeb Potter. The things the boy had said. The warning that she would abandon him. The entire experience with the Potter boy had left him slightly unhinged.

He had been in sour spirits when Kathryn left and he had rushed home after her session to ready himself for that evening's exploits.

Wendy hadn't been prepared. Listening to a record and dressed in pajamas she looked remarkably fine for having turned her lover over to an asylum. Oliver decided that she had to die then. He had killed before. Many times. His mask was a trophy that proved just that. But the fury behind his slashes were directly attributed to Kathryn's assumption of his masculinity and sexuality. It cut him to the core though he would never admit it.

Why did he care what she thought? She wasn't to be his mother. She was too young for the part and besides he had Lana for that (if she would go willingly and if not he'd find someone else.) And the only connection they had was their mutual abandonment issues. So then why was she still at the forefront of his mind most nights?

"Doctor Thredson?"

Oliver snapped back from his reverie as Kit's voice broke through his thoughts. The young boy's face was drawn in confusion and concern at the doctors sudden silence. Oliver straightened in his seat, pretending to be pondering over what the young man had been saying.

"Thank you for coming in today," Oliver said gently closing the file and standing, guiding Kit to the door of his office. Two orderlies waited outside, arms crossed. "It proved quite illuminating."

"I'm no murderer, Doc," Kit implored desperately. "You gotta see that. Don't you?"

Oliver said nothing, opting instead to open the door and watch as Kit was taken from his office, the door closing quietly behind him as if he had never been there at all.

Lana sat in the common room smoking furiously. After her short interlude with Doctor Thredson yesterday she was a bundle of excited nerves. She hoped she would see him tonight. She hoped there would be good news. There had to be. Lana's attention was drawn to the double doors that swung open loudly as Mary Eunice stepped into the room, her habit swishing dramatically behind her as she moved, surveying the scene of quiet chaos before her.

Everyone was quiet with the storm approaching as if all of them knew of its preparation to engulf Briarcliff. The constant patter of rain on the roof have proven to have a soothing, almost numbing effect on most of them.

Lana frowned at the nun as she smiled mirthlessly at the unfortunate souls. Lana had noticed a change in the woman since her arrival. When she'd snuck Lana into Briarcliff she had been shaking, terrified. Now she wandered the halls with an easy gaze, her movements powerful. As if feeling her gaze Mary Eunice turned and viewed Lana, drawing over to her conspiratorially.

"Enjoying the day Miss Winters?" Mary Eunice offered with a grin. Was she serious?

"Could be better," Lana replied warily, inhaling slowly.

Mary Eunice offered a snort of laughter before nodding, continuing her way to talk with the rest of the residents. Lana glanced over her shoulder when she heard the quiet voice of Kathryn behind her.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Kathryn was saying forcefully, her eyes alight on the face of Sister Mary Eunice.

She had her left hand on the white piano keys, the rest of her body turned away from the piano on the bench seat. Lana turned her body to face the scene. Some of the other residents had grown quiet, watching on in interest. Sister looked down at Kathryn, her back to Lana as she spoke quietly to the girl. No one could quite catch it. Whatever she had said upset the girl greatly because the normally demure Kathryn was on her feet, her face blotchy with anger.

"How dare you say that?"

Without warning Kathryn had reached her hand to strike Mary Eunice's cheek, shocked as the woman's small hand came up to block her at the last second. Kathryn winced as the woman dug her hands into the girl's wrist.

"You're hurting me. Let go."

And only because Lana was listening intently did she hear the nun's cruel murmured words.

" _You don't enjoy that, do you Kathryn? Not unless its Thredson doing the touching_."

Kathryn wrenched out of the woman's grasp, her eyes wide and filling with angry tears as she held her bruised wrist. She looked as if she were about to murder the woman in front of her and Lana wondered why Kathryn was in Briarcliff in the first place.

"Frank?" the nun inquired casually, watching with mirth as Kathryn was approached by Frank, his head shaking slowly as he slapped the cuffs onto her wrists. She was still, her jaw clenched as she glared at Sister Mary Eunice.

"Stay away from me," she hissed lowly. "I know what you are."

Sister Mary Eunice rolled her eyes dramatically before turning back to the rest of the group, informing them that the night's movie was to be a good one. Kathryn was rushed from the room by Frank, her hands cuffed behind her back. Lana frowned to herself before turning back to the sofa she was sitting on. Grace had entered into the room along with Kit who looked rather upset. She ignored them as they sat a few feet away near the piano.

"He doesn't believe me," Kit was saying with a choked voice. "He's going to turn that paper into the courts and I'm screwed. I'll either be here for life or fry at the chair."

"You cannot think like that," Grace said, her French accent clipped and comforting. She placed a hand on the boy's kneecap, looking up at him with her large green eyes. "You must keep your chin up."

"How can I do that, Grace? They think I killed my wife. They don't believe me about the aliens. What else can I do?"

Kit threw himself into the back of the chair, covering his eyes with his hands quickly. He didn't want to cry in this room of people. He just wanted to be home, to be able to bury his wife and mourn her in peace. Grace was silent, her face drawn and thoughtful. Lana gasped slightly as her large eyes darted over to where she sat. She sneered openly at Lana, her bottom teeth bared in muted fury.

"What are you looking at?"

Lana turned to face the other way on the couch, her cheeks red and her heart racing from the altercation. Despite her sweet looks and diminutive stature that Grace girl was frightening. She could hear Grace mutter something quietly about her being a traitor before continuing.

"During the movie tonight," she whispered to Kit excitedly. "I excuse myself to go to the bathroom. While I'm doing that you sidle out of the room. We meet in the hallway and go to the boiler room. From there out the tunnel. We have to bring Shelley. She doesn't belong here either."

"It'd never work."

"It's _something_ , Kit."

There was a moment of silence from the young man's end before Lana heard him sigh.

"Alright, let's do it."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Exposure Therapy

Oliver glanced up from his notes as Kathryn entered his office. She still had that shy way about her, so unlike their first session.

"Good evening Miss Hatcher," Oliver smiled as she entered. "I promise to have you out of session before the start of the film."

"Thank you," Kathryn replied with a small smile. "I've never seen _The Sign of the Cross_ before."

"Neither have I," Oliver confessed truthfully.

He didn't have a television in his home. He didn't need any more entertainment or stimulation outside of work. The girl looked rather wan, her eyes rimmed with dark circles. He noticed then that she was rubbing her wrists tenderly, wincing slightly. He was surprised to see ugly red welts forming on her wrists, obviously from prolonged exposure to the handcuffs Briarcliff loved to toss onto its patients.

"Did something happen today?"

Kathryn looked at him slightly dazed, her head swimming. They had sedated her earlier against her will. She had spent much of the day sleeping in her cell, her arms bound behind her back. Frank had unlocked them moments before pushing her into Oliver's office and heading down the hall for a smoke.

"I'm afraid I wasn't able to control my temper," Kathryn said without emotion, glancing down at her wrists. "Sister Mary Eunice said something that upset me. I tried to hit her. I wasn't thinking."

"Do you often resort to physical violence when angered?"

"Never," Kathryn replied, her eyes wide as she glanced around the room. "It's this place. Briarcliff. It sets me on edge. I'd never bit someone before or hit them. Its like I can't control my impulses in here."

Oliver nodded, knowing what she meant. Even ensconced in his little office here he felt the cool chill of madness that seeped through the brickwork despite the muggy feeling in the air from the storm.

"May I ask what she said that upset you so?"

Kathryn shook her head sharply, her eyes unable to meet his. Oliver was surprised at the girl's lack of candor. "I'd prefer not to answer."

Oliver nodded, respecting the girl's choice. "Well, today is the big day. Exposure therapy."

"Yes," Kathryn nodded. "Of course."

She felt her innards jumping at the mention. She thought back to Dr. Thredson's example of the rats. He looked rather jovial today, even upbeat despite the deluge outside. He seemed excited at the prospect of curing her and she felt an affinity for him, thankful for his help.

"I brought my portable record player," Oliver offered motioning to the item, "as well as a collection of popular records. You mentioned listening to them with Michael during some of your happier memories and I thought they may prove to be a comfort during our session. Please look through and pull out any that appeal to you."

Kathryn nodded, moving towards the record player. It was so warm in the office, the storm making everything sticky and humid. She shrugged off the sweater she was wearing, tossing it absently onto the arm of the sofa. Oliver watched her in the reflection of his glasses, his back turned to her. She was humming lowly to herself as she went through the records, producing a few and laying them on his desk before sitting at the sofa.

She had picked some of her favorite records, some older and some new. Some she had listened to with Michael and some she had just discovered on her own. She was looking forward to hearing them - after days of that blasted record in the common room she was thankful for the reprieve.

Oliver walked over to the record player, slipping the first plate onto the player. Bobby Darrin. As the needle descended Mack the Knife started to play, creating an upbeat and relaxed tone for the session. Kathryn smiled, her teeth showing for the first time Oliver had seen. They were perfect, white pearls hidden between her lips. He was shocked at how changed her face was when joyful. She seemed younger, lighter.

"Is this the exposure therapy?" Kathryn asked turning her dark eyes hopefully onto Oliver's frame. Maybe this was all it was? Listening to some records and talking? She could handle that!

Dr. Thredson smiled at her eager hope before nodding gently.

"It will be part of it, yes. But let's start off slowly with that part of your therapy," Oliver offered smoothly. "While we are under a time limit, tossing you into the deep end before you're properly prepared will only cause more harm than good. Take a seat, let's talk a bit first and ease us into the session."

Kathryn moved to the chair across from his desk, as he sat behind it. He opened a large pad of paper and poised a pencil atop it, looking to her in interest. He looked so official in his suit, his tie tightly around his neck. He looked so put together and for the first time Kathryn wondered about her appearance. She hadn't looked in a mirror since she arrived. Oliver's smile was thin lipped but welcoming as he spoke.

"When did this aversion to physical contact start occurring Miss Hatcher? Do you recall?"

"I feel like it's been all my life," Kathryn shrugged. "But when I started getting depressed and anxious it got much worse. I used to be able to shake a strangers' hands without thinking. Now it causes me to wretch. And of course I had to interact with people at my job all the time. Hand them books, stand close to them. I couldn't take it. I kept getting worse and worse. That's why I had to leave. Patrons were starting to complain."

Oliver wondered idly if she'd felt that way when they'd shaken hands not so long ago. Did his touch repulse her?

 _Focus. This is your patient._

"And with Michael?"

"Before I got sick it was fine to hold hands. But anything more than that and I started to get very anxious. He was very understanding at first, but he quickly grew irritated. It made me nervous to be around him after a while. I tried kissing a few times but I just never got comfortable. He thought that it we were married it would change things so he propsed and I accepted."

"Interesting. And your parents?"

"We weren't a really affectionate family," Kathryn offered, her mouth pursed in remembrance. "My father always spoke kindly to me, but we weren't very outwardly affectionate. It's just the way it was done. But I was surprised when I saw other kids hug and kiss their parents and if I'm honest I think I was actually a little jealous."

"Did you ever tell your parents how you felt?"

Kathryn was silent, her eyes on the floor. Oliver waited a moment, knowing that silence was a therapists best friend. But when five minutes had passed and she hadn't moved or spoken he knew he would have to encourage her.

"If this treatment proves successful, we could have you out before I even leave."

Kathryn looked up at him, her dark eyes wet with unshed tears. "I tried hugging my father once."

"Keep going," Oliver said gently, his baritone lulling her into trust. Kathryn nodded sharply.

"Christmas morning when I unwrapped the book he'd bought me. _Little Women_. I was so happy and I wasn't thinking. I think I was eight. My mother saw us embracing and she grabbed me by the arm and started beating me with a her bare fist, crying that it was inappropriate and that I was a disgusting monster for trying it. My father tried to stop her, explaining that it was fine but I was frightened. I never tried again."

Oliver leaned back in the chair, shocked at how obvious the girl's problem was.

 _From a young age patient K had been taught that physical affection was something to be ashamed of. Something that was wrong and perverse. Patient has grown up with a warped perspective on intimacy and has carried this on into her adulthood. Suggestion of Exposure Therapy for intimacy to get her attitudes and behaviors towards intimacy more regulated._

Oliver glanced back up at Kathryn, his keen mind already ten steps ahead of what he was asking.

"Was there a lot of physical abuse like that at home growing up?"

Kathryn's body nearly jolted off of the chair at his words. Abuse was a very hot-button topic and issue. And inwardly at her reaction, Oliver wished he had worded it in a way that was less aggressive.

"Abuse? It was just parents punishing a misbehaving child. Its normal," Kathryn insistd. "It's what parents do. I shouldn't have hugged him. I realize that now. It was wrong."

Oliver could see through the wobbling in her chin that she didn't believe her own words. Oliver decided not to push this subject, seeing that the girl was growing agitated and he needed her calm and collected before the exposure therapy could begin.

"What if I told you that hugging one's parents is a completely natural instinct to show affection?" Oliver offered. Kathryn shook her head as if warding off some evil spirit. She looked as if she were going to be sick all over his office.

"I'd say that maybe for others it's normal, but not for me. When I think about kissing and hugging I get an ache in my stomach."

Oliver was silently regarding her, watching as she picked absently at her thumb resting on her lap. She felt very vulnerable then, feeling his gaze on her face. She wondered why she felt she could be so exposed with him. Was it simply her desire to get out of Briarcliff? Or was this man actually helping her? She looked back up at Dr. Thredson, wondering how a man like him would treat his children. He was so professional but warm with her, she could only imagine he would be a kind father to his offspring.

"Miss Hatcher, I want you to close your eyes a moment," Oliver said soothingly. "Imagine yourself as a young girl. Place yourself in one of your happiest memories. What sticks out to you?"

Kathryn obliged, her nose wrinkling as she dove through her memories. It was hard to piece together a good memory. Life was very hectic through her life. Her parents constantly fought despite staying married until her father's death. Her mother was a very withdrawn, cold woman. Finally a long distant memory occurred to her and Kathryn let herself surrended to the emotions within.

"I remember being in the kitchen," Kathryn whispered, her lips curving into a smile at the memory making her face light up. "My mother making pancakes and my father reading the paper. He was going to work soon. We were all talking about going to the lake for the summer. We were going to rent a paddle boat."

"How do you feel in this memory?"

"Safe."

"Alright," Oliver nodded, intrigued by her choice of words, watching the girl's face as he continued. "When you think of safe, what exactly do you mean? What makes that memory _safe_?"

"Everything is calm," Kathryn offered almost dreamily, her eyes still closed. "No one is shouting or hitting. We're all getting along. We're a happy family."

Oliver nodded, looking at Kathryn with a new gaze. One of complete understanding. He could see how a child brought up in such dischord would long for a safe, calm and happy home. He understood it better than anyone. He had been subjected to the brutality of corporal punishment.

The smacking and beatings he received when acting out of line. It had fostered in him an unspoken hostility to anyone who abused power. He thought back to Kathryn's frightened face when she had run into him in the hall that first day. Being abandoned by her cold and distant mother. How hard it must have been to be betrayed by her own protector and abuser. The mix of emotions she must have been feeling when he turned her over to Carl.

"That's why Briarcliff is so awful," Kathryn added soberly as her eyes slowly opened. "Everything is so loud and frightening. Nothing is calm. And I know that when I get out no one is waiting for me that cares. There is no happy family at the end of all this. Just lonliness and pain."

Oliver nodded, understanding perfectly. Even now their session was occasionally punctuated with the distant sound of screaming or weeping from the patients on the upper floors.

"And that's why this therapy is so important," Oliver emphasized. "The sooner we get you to a stable level, the sooner you can leave. The sooner you'll realize that you don't need anyone on the outside but yourself."

"Easy for you to say," Kathryn sighed. "You're successful. You see crazy people every day and help them. You make a difference in the world. I bet so many people love you."

"I try to make a difference," Oliver nodded, ignoring her comment on being loved. "But I'm not always successful."

"Well, you've made a difference in my life," Kathryn offered shyly.

Oliver was taken aback by the girl's candor and found that he couldn't quite reply. He'd had many patients before but they had never really focussed on his end of therapy. They took what he said to heart, they thanked him for his time, but none had told him that he made a true difference in their lives. He and Kathryn lapsed into a short silence before he finally stood, absently straightening his tie before coming to stand beside her.

"You've done remarkably," he said looking down at her from behind his glasses. "Now if you're feeling ready I'd like to bring in someone who will be aiding in your therapy."

"What?" Kathryn stood, suddenly looking like a frightened doe, the trust slowly evaporating between them as he spoke.

"Please be calm," Oliver insisted, motioning for her to remain on the sofa, his movements slow and careful. "This is part of the Exposure Therapy we were talking about. I have found a volunteer who agreed to assist you. This is a completely safe and supervised experience, Miss Hatcher. Please relax as much as you can. I know this is an assault of the senses but I truly believe it will help you."

Oliver rushed from the room before she could reply. She sat a moment in mute shock before she walked over to the record player, replacing the record and sitting back on the aged sofa to await what fresh horrors were to come.

 _I have to trust Dr. Thredson. He wouldn't hurt me._

When Oliver and a tall boy Kathryn recognized from the common room came into the office she tried to keep her features schooled, but she felt completely overwhelmed. Oliver shut the door behind him gently, guiding the man-child over to where Kathryn sat. The young man was tall and rather beautiful. Definitely not something she was used to seeing in the dingy grey of Briarcliff.

"This is Daniel," Oliver introduced them awkwardly as neither made eye contact. "Daniel is here to help with your therapy. He comes recommended from the Monsignor himself."

Kathryn looked up at Oliver from her seat then slowly over to Daniel who looked dazed.

"How on earth is he supposed to help me?"

"With exposure to intimacy," Oliver said as if it were obvious. "Physical touch."

"Are you insane?" Kathryn leapt up from the sofa, preparing to leave the room. "I can't do that!"

There was a second of silence before _'A Teenager in Love_ ' by Dion and the Belmonts began to play, making the hideous experience seem surreal. The cheery upbeat tune was so starkly different from the three drawn figures in the room it seemed like something out of a dream. As a young man crooned over being a teenager in love, Kathryn eyed the tall boy before walking to the office door, her fingertips on the doorknob.

"You wanted to be released, correct?" Oliver called after her receding frame. He saw her still.

"I have to show them empirical evidence that says you are of right mind and body," Oliver continued. "If you're still afraid to shake hands and meet new people they'll send you back and you know it. If you can do this just think of the possibilities. Your anxiety could possibly be managed. Your life would go back to normal and your depression would cease entirely. You could even reconnect with Michael."

Kathryn lowered her fingertips from the doorknob, his words ringing true. If she left now she was basically signing her own death warrant. She turned slowly and licked her lips absently, not noticing as Oliver shifted uncomfortably at the desk. Kathryn knew that a reconcilliation with Michael was not only out of the question it was no longer something she desired. But to be released from Briarcliff was incentive enough to try this.

"Alright, Doctor."

Oliver breathed a silent sigh of relief. If she'd rushed from the room he didn't know what he would have done. He waited until Kathryn was seated on the couch once more before he resumed speaking.

"Now, you've been exposed to Daniel just in the room with you now. How are you feeling?"

"Uncomfortable," Kathryn replied quickly, her arms folded over her chest. She still hadn't been able to make eye contact with the young man. "But I'll work through it. It's just like the rats, right?"

"Exactly," Oliver smiled warmly at her response. "Now when you're comfortable with it, please sit next to him on the sofa."

Kathryn took a deep breath, glancing at the young man then back to Oliver before lowering herself beside Daniel. The boy in his blue uniform looked innocently around the room, his full lips pursed in thought that no one was privy to. They sat on either end of the sofa, with Kathryn staring the entire time at Oliver. He could feel himself growing disconcerted by her even gaze on him and he cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Look at Daniel, Miss Hatcher."

Kathryn glanced over at the boy, gulping as he met her gaze with clear blue eyes. He was quite beautiful from an artistic point of view. She could admit that. Too beautiful for this world, she supposed.

"Now, when you're ready, inch closer to him on the sofa. Can you do that?"

Kathryn eyed the boy who was now sitting and staring blankly to the other side of the room before taking a deep breath. Everything in her urged her to run in the other direction but she steeled herself and shifted closer by an inch.

"How do you feel now?"

"A little nervous because I know something worse is coming."

Oliver nodded. "Completely normal. I find that your emotional responses to proximity are completely average. From observation I'd say that its physical touch that seems to upset you. So let's start with a minor touch. Just a simple gesture. I want you to place your hand on Daniel's shoulder. Complete innocuous. You're in complete control. Can you do that?"

Kathryn's eyes widened before she nodded, raising a shaky hand to the shoulder of the tall boy. He was looking through her, his mind elsewhere. Somehow it made it easier. Like interacting with a ghost. She lowered her hand slowly onto his shoulder, noting that he didn't move as she did. They stood like this for five minutes until Oliver's voice broke the awkward silence.

"Good."

Kathryn nodded, her upper lip beginning to sweat. The warmth of the room, the thing she was doing mixed with the music was making the entire moment feel sweltering and exhausting.

"Feelings, Miss Hatcher?"

"Fine," Kathryn replied shakily.

"Excellent," Oliver looked over at the scene, feeling a mix of emotions at the girl initiating contact with the young man.

Why was he suddenly so upset? He watched those soft hands gently caress the boy's shoulder and he realized to his amusement that he was feeling jealousy. How childish. He pushed his feelings to the back of his mind as they continued like this for a half an hour, slowly moving from one spot to the next.

First they sat directly beside one another. Then she touched his hand. Felt his forehead with the back of her hand. They ended with her grasping his hand in her own, holding it tightly for five minutes until her nerves passed. When Oliver thought this sufficient he made a small note and then came over to them.

"Now we begin the second phase."

"We're not finished?" Kathryn gasped, her forehead shiny with sweat. The entire exercise had felt so strange and foreign to her she could barely believe that there was any time left. This time had stretched into what felt like eternity.

"Phase two is amplified. Remember it was just being near the rats? Now you need that rat to come to you. He will touch _you_ , Miss Hatcher."

Kathryn's heart stopped at this and she pulled back from the man, looking to Oliver nervously. She couldn't do this.

As if on cue the lights in the office turned off. The storm raged wildly on outside and Daniel started to howl frightened. He began to thrash on the couch, his body bumping angrily into Kathryn.

" _Ow_!"

"Are you alright?"

"Yes," Kathryn said, moving away from the flailing figure to the other side of the room.

"He's afraid of the dark," Oliver shouted over the howls before grasping Daniel by the arm and ushering the boy into the hall. Kathryn heard their receding voices and footsteps down the hall until there was nothing but silence. Fear gripped her then as she glanced around the empty office. She didn't much care for the dark either.

Sister Mary Eunice's voice snuck into her mind then. Their horrible altercation this morning in the common room.

 _Kathryn had simply been absently tapping on the piano, trying to make a tune that was anything but Dominique. The nun had come out of nowhere, her eyes fixated on the young woman. Her voice was low, seductive._

 _"How is therapy going Kathryn?"_

 _Kathryn had glanced up in surprise. She had barely met Sister Mary Eunice before today, instead just seeing her rush around the halls looking on the verge of tears. Now she had appeared calm, almost predatory._

 _"Fine thank you, Sister. I think I'm making progress."_

 _"You know what would help progress things even faster don't you?" Mary Eunice had offere, crouching beside the girl conspiratorially. Kathryn had looked at the woman in curiosity. Was she willing to help Kathryn as well. Kathryn turned her full attention onto the nun._

 _"No, what?"_

 _"If you gave some special attention to Doctor Thredson. I think you'd find he'd be happy to write whatever you wanted."_

 _Kathryn's mouth had gone dry at the implication spilling from the nun's cruel lips. She had shaken her head, her hands dropping from the piano keys. She saw that Lana woman glancing over at them and suddenly felt very vulnerable. There were no other people here besides the guards and they couldn't like her less._

 _"I don't know what you're talking about."_

 _"Oh sure you do," Sister Mary Eunice had laughed darkly. "You know he only wants this meeting so he can fuck you over his desk, don't you? He doesn't actually want to help. He just wants his c-"_

 _Kathryn had jumped off of the seat, her mind suddenly coming to the conclusion that what crouched before her was not human. She had grown up in church long enough to know a evil when she saw it. Her voice had raised loudly, hoping to make the woman stop her actions._

 _"How dare you say that?"_

 _Now the entire common room was staring at them, but Kathryn didn't care. She couldn't let poor Dr. Thredson's name get dragged through the mud like this. As Sister Mary Eunice smiled Kathryn could feel the pent up fury she had been feeling bubble over. Without thinking she had raised a hand and brought it to the nun's cheek. Quick as a flash Mary Eunice's hand had stopped her, grasping her wrist and holding it inches from her own face, her eyes never leaving Kathryn's._

 _"You're hurting me" Kathryn had cried out, pulling on her arm. "Let go!"_

 _"You don't enjoy that, do you Kathryn?" the nun whispered with a dark smirk, her grip burning into Kathryn's flesh. "Not unless its Thredson doing the touching."_

 _Kathryn had finally wrenched her wrist free and was rubbing it tenderly, her eyes wide with shock._

 _"Stay away from me," she had hissed lowly. "I know what you are."_

 _"Oh this is going to be fun to watch," Sister Mary Eunice whispered with a wink before turning around to call Frank._

Kathryn felt the cool chill that came from nowhere and a voice, low and hissing sounded from around her, enveloping her in fear.

 _Run little rabbit, run._

Kathryn's heart slammed against her ribcage painfully and she gathered her sweater up into her arms, preparing to leave.

The lights flickered back on and as she approached the door Oliver ducked back in, surprised to see her eager to leave.

"Where are you going, Miss Hatcher? We still have thirty minutes left in our appointment."

"He's gone," Kathryn replied hoarsely. "Daniel left. I thought maybe that meant that our experiment was over for today."

"All this means is that we need a new subject to work with," Oliver offered calmly.

"No," Kathryn shook her head. "No more strangers, please. I can't take it. I couldn't even stomach the thought of Daniel touching me after a half hour of continuously touching him. It won't work. Please there has to be another way."

"Interesting," Oliver noted the girls desperation, jotting down some more notes into his notepad and looking at her thoughtfully. "Is there someone you might feel more comfortable conducting this exposure therapy with? A connection you may have made since you arrived?"

"None, Doctor. I don't make friends easily."

Oliver pursed his lips in thought, tapping his pencil absently against his mouth. Kathryn knew he would have no other volunteers. There would be no more options and she would be stuck here at Briarcliff until her mother decided she had tortured her enough. That thought shook her to her core and she spoke out in desperation.

"Can _you_ just do it, Doctor Thredson?"

There was a hideous silence before Thredson turned to face her, his face looking confused.

"Pardon me?"

The girl looked so remarkably upset that it physically pained Oliver to behold. He had to stop a compulsion that ran through him to reach out and touch her.

 _I see you_. He wanted to shout. _I see you and I understand_.

Their reactions to being restricted from affection had simply morphed in completely different ways. She had gone into herself, finding all she needed within. He had searched externally, hoping others could fill this longing. Yet both of them were there in the same boat. Alone and sorrowful.

"You're the only person I think I could do this therapy with," Kathryn finally offered, her face flushing with embarrassment." I don't even know if it will work, but I can try. We'd just have to go slow."

 _Please let me get out of this place. Please agree to this._

When Oliver realized what the girl was suggesting his mouth parted momentarily in shock before he regained his composure.

"I'm your psychiatrist, Miss Hatcher. The ethical implications of what you're suggestion are tantamount to me having my license stripped from me right this second."

"I would never tell," Kathryn insisted earnestly, her hands clasping in a silent prayer. "Please. You'd be doing me such a favor. You'd be fixing me. I'd be able to go home, move into my own apartment once more. I'd have my life back!"

Thredson moved to sit on the edge of the desk, his eyes never leaving her face. He seemed unsure of what to say.

"I know you're desperate to leave this place," he finally spoke, his eyes deep with understanding. "But you need to understand that I cannot in good conscience do this next level of therapy with a patient. It goes against all my ethics."

"It's not like you'd be doing it for fun," Kathryn insisted, stepping closer to him, closing the distance between them. "You'd be saving my life. Think of it - in five years I could be standing in front of you with a husband and a little baby thanking you for this experiment of yours."

Kathryn saw him blink rapidly in surprise as she spoke that last sentence, his eyebrow raising in question before clearing his throat.

"Would you really want that? A husband and... _a child_?"

Did she? She thought momentarily of a life so unlike her own currently. With a house, and a husband and a child. Of a life so unflinchingly normal it didn't seem possible. A life of security and joy and love. A life that she had never thought possible.

"Yes," she admitted gently. "Despite my fears and my sadness I think part of me would. I think part of me yearns to be a mother."

Although she couldn't at this moment imagine being a wife let alone a mother, the thought of cradling a newborn of my own had an innate appeal. Thredson continued to look at her without speaking, his arms crossed in front of his chest. His face was so unreadable and she was convinced he was going to turn her down.

"Please," she whispered, unable to meet his eyes. Tears began to well within her lids and she closed them gently, afraid to sob and scare him off this path. "Fix me."

There was so much silence within his office that she felt she would choke on it.

"This would be purely clinical," he offered finally, breaking the silence and moving from the desk towards Kathryn. "If things get out of hand or you feel uncomfortable at all that will be the end of it."

The feeling of joy swept through her and she smiled widely, nodding emphatically before sitting on the sofa daintily. she smoothed her dress and forced a brave smile gingerly up at him, afraid to do anything that would make him change his mind.

 _Complete this therapy. Get out of Briarcliff. Then leave Mother's house. Get a new job. You can do this. Be strong._

The clarity that had been missing this last long year was suddenly present and for the first time in a long time Kathryn knew what she wanted.

"I'm ready."

Thredson took a deep breath, exhaling quietly before shrugging off his suit jacket and placing it gently over his chair. He swallowed thickly as he loosened his tie, turning his attention to the record player.

"Should we continue with this record?" he inquired stiffly.

"A new one, please," Kathryn replied quietly. She knew she was just trying to buy time but she didn't care. Just because she was alright with this didn't mean she was eager to dive in head first. Oliver nodded going over to the record player and placing in one of the records from the girl's collection. He lifted the needle with trembling fingers that Kathryn did not see, placing it along the record slowly.

The needle scratched loudly, startling them both before the smooth crooning of Phil Phillips and the Twilights' _Sea of Love_ began to play, soulful and entrancing. Kathryn inwardly wished she'd chosen slightly less intimate records for him to play. She hadn't been thinking.

Oliver put his hands in his pockets, facing away from Kathryn a moment as he clenched his eyes and jaw tightly. He took a few shallow breaths to calm his nerves as the song played around them.

He was the doctor. She the patient. This shouldn't be strange. He had done exposure therapy with a myriad of his clients to great success. But never like this.

 _Be clinical. Detached._

He turned with a wan smile in the girl's direction. She looked most uncomfortable. He seemed suddenly shy and unsure of himself. She had only ever seen him in control and commanding as he walked the halls of Briarcliff, determined to fix the individuals within it. Now as she looked at him he looked so ashen, his forehead dotted with perspiration. He drew beside her on the couch, their shoulders almost touching.

"We need to make sure that you are completely at ease," Thredson offered gently, his face so close she could feel his hot breath on her face. He smelled of mints and cigarettes and something else she couldn't quite place. "For this session we'll begin by taking things slow. Start here. Put your hand in mine."

He reached out a hand, palm up. Kathryn looked to him expectantly before slipping her hand into it. Absently Oliver let his thumb run over her knuckles and immediately a swirling in Kathryn's stomach began. Different than that of working with Daniel. Dr. Thredson kept her gaze in his, calming her with its depths.

"How do you feel?" his voice was a low and silken baritone.

"I'm fine, " Kathryn lied shakily.

"I'm going to do everything step-by-step," Oliver continued, placing her hand back in her lap gently. "You will know exactly what is going to occur. If at any time you want to stop you simply have to say the word. You have all the power here."

Kathryn nodded, her eyes on his mouth as he spoke, not believing a word he said. She could barely concentrate when he was this close to her.

"Next I am going to ask that you place your hand upon my shoulder, as you did with Daniel."

Kathryn nodded, doing it quickly, her heart jumping with every touch. His shoulder was broad under her fingers, his suit silken under her touch. It was even harder doing this with Doctor Thredson. But why? Why did she feel so strange when she touched him. Shouldn't be taken aback? Shouldn't she be running in the other direction. Why then did she feel so at ease with him here?

 _You know he only wants this meeting so he can fuck you over his desk, don't you?_

Kathryn pulled her hand from Thredson as if she had been pricked. He looked to her surprised at her sudden reticence.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes," Kathryn lied, her eyes on the floor. "Just wanting to move onto the next step."

Oliver nodded, clearing his throat adroitly before turning to face her more head on. She did the same until their knees were almost touching on the sofa. The tentative touches continued on for a few moments, moving from his shoulder to his cheek to his forehead and then back to his hands. All the time Oliver sat stoically watching her, seeing the expression of focus on her features. Witnessing as the girl's hands trembled with every new plane of his body they explored.

 _I can do this,_ Kathryn thought silently _. I can do this and he can tell them that I'm cured._

"Now we'll try something we didn't get to try with Daniel," Oliver breathed, his eyes heavy lidded as he spoke to her. "I'd like you to embrace me. Specifically putting your arms around my neck and placing your cheek against my own. I won't move at all. It's all within your control."

"A hug."

"Correct," Oliver nodded. "Something very common place. People do it all the time. You should be able to as well."

Kathryn's eyes widened a moment in shock at his words before she nodded, preparing to lean forward then realizing the angle was awkward. Oliver noticed this immediately, drawing himself up and looking down at her.

"We should stand."

They both winced as the sound of thunder clashed outside the window, causing Kathryn to topple a moment before righting herself. They looked at each other from across the room awkwardly, neither sure of what to do next. As if on cue, the record turned to the next song. " _Put your head on my shoulder_ " blared from the record player, causing both Kathryn and Oliver to laugh aloud gently to one another at the absurdity of the tune and its poor timing.

"A horrible choice of music," Kathryn smiled.

"Agreed."

Using the break in tension to her advantage, Kathryn stepped closer to Oliver, watching as his gaze followed her like a snake watching its prey. His eyes never left her face as she slowly drew her body close to his, attempting to close the distance and initiate the embrace. The top of her head barely cleared his nose and she stood on her tiptoes so that she could reach his cheek.

Paul Anka wailed from the record player; _'Put your lips next to mine deeeear_.'

Oliver gave into the feeling of her arms around him, her cheek against his. He leaned slightly over, feeling as she more easily wrapped her arms around his neck. He sensed her gentle pull, making sure her cheek was firmly planted against his.

 _Do it just as he said. Be calm. He's a Psychiatrist; this is what they do._

She felt the stubble from his cheek and she melted into him, closing her eyes. His neck smelled divine, of Old Spice aftershave if she was correct. The cinnamon and cedarwood notes floated up, heady. Oliver tensed his hands at his sides, his eyes falling shut at the contact. She felt so soft and so welcoming. His hands clenched and unclenched over and over at his sides.

 _This feels so right._ He thought. _So impossibly safe_.

 _Safe_. That word she'd used.

One that he'd never considered himself. She was still against him, her arms still wound against his neck and her cheek soft against his. She smelled of soap and sweat. Her arms were warm and comforting around his neck. When was the last time he had been embraced by a woman like this?

Never.

He never let them get this close. And the one's he brought home for 'testing' never initiated the contact, preferring instead to scurry around his basement, screaming out in fear. Now he had this woman, this creature holding him and by the feel of her relaxing muscles she was enjoying it. He could feel the gentle puff of her breath against his ear. His arms and hands itched to be around her. He tried to remain stoic but a greedy impulse in him cried out for more.

"Do you want to go further?" His voice rumbled beside her.

"Yes," Kathryn breathed against his cheek without thinking, stepping back so that she could look into his unreadable eyes. At this rate there was no way that he could deny she was improving! Her smile grew wide at the thought of early release.

"A part of humanity is the desire for skin-to-skin contact," Oliver offered clinically, his tone steady as he removed his tie "This is something that you seem to have evolved without due to your childhood trauma."

"So I'm not human," Kathryn offered with a humorless grin, watching as Oliver tossed the tie behind him without breaking their eye contact. It fluttered to the floor soundlessly.

"Not that at all," Thredson shook his head, horrified at the thought. "It's just something we have to train your brain into recognizing as something safe."

"Alright. How do we do that?"

Oliver regarded her a moment before he stepped towards her, closing the distance between them. The record skipped a moment before landing on the next song in the compilation. " _When a Man loves a woman_ " came soulfully through the player, fading into the background as Oliver made his way to Kathryn. She looked up at him with wide eyes, her face even paler than usual.

A part of him told him it was inappropriate to be doing this with her. She was his patient. That even if Daniel had been standing here in front of her under his instruction, he never would have suggested what he did next.

"Try to unbutton these," Oliver said his voice just above a whisper.

She could see the trembling of his hands as he directed her gaze to the top button of his dress shirt.

"You're shaking," she observed in subtle awe of his reaction, breaking the tension as she slowly moved her hands to the top button. She herself felt more in command as she had this task to complete. She never let her eyes look up from her job of unbuttoning his shirt, watching his chest rise and fall under her ministrations. He gazed down at her face, watching as she worked.

"This is a unique situation," he replied with a shy, boyish smile. "One I feel rather unprepared for."

She glanced up his eyes, seeing herself momentarily reflected in his glasses. She fell silent as she continued her downward descent, finishing with the last of his buttons. Thredson watched her from under hooded lids, his face unreadable. The dress shirt opened to expose his undershirt, under which she could see a hard chest that was moving along with his slightly hitched breath. At this point she felt the first stings of panic. The chest she was affronted with was nothing like she had ever known or been exposed to in this way.

She and Michael had never even reached this point in their long relationship. Now she was in a room with a man she wasn't married to and she was undressing him. She felt her lips tremble a moment at what was before her.

"We can stop at any time," Oliver reminded her tilting his head to the side to meet her eyes.

She shook her head, exhaling loudly before brushing her hair back from her face and shaking her head to refocus. This was a necessary step. She had to think of it detached, like Doctor Thredson. Something that she needed to do strictly for the purpose of getting released.

 _And perhaps something more._

"What's next?"

Thredson licked his lips absently, looking into her face with an intensity that was starting to unnerve her.

"It's been documented that small animals when parted too early from their mothers have found comfort in the simulation of a heartbeat. A clock wrapped in a towel or something similar. Perhaps a heartbeat would serve to calm you?"

"Alright," Kathryn shrugged noncommittally.

She stared at his chest a moment before closing the distance between them once more. Slowly her hands fell on either side of his pectorals before she leaned her ear and cheek against his chest. She could feel his chest hair under her fingertips, surprised at how much softer it felt than looked. His hands remained at his sides, making sure to know that she was in control.

"Are you feeling safe?"

She nodded, hearing the steady heartbeat within him and as he spoke she could hear it rumbling through his chest. She felt his sudden intake of breath, the shiver that went through him and she wondered if he was cold.

"Try closing your eyes, Miss Hatcher. Do this until you're feeling comfortable with this position."

She did as he asked and felt herself being lulled at the sound of his heartbeat. The even thump, thump, thump. Whatever they were outside we were the same within. A steadily beating heart, blood within their veins. Within minutes she had pressed herself fully against his chest, her body beginning to feel at ease with him. Her hands were still on either side of her head on his chest, looking like a child about to fall asleep.

Without thinking the two figures began to shift slightly in time with the music. The haunting tune of soulful love enveloped the cold office of Dr. Thredson, making it come alive however shortlived. Their eyes were closed, their bodies in sync. All too soon the song ended with a slow fade, breaking the spell. Oliver immediately stilled, feeling drowsy. He glanced down at the girl to see her still relaxed against his chest.

"For the next step I'm going to place my hand on your back," he said from above. "Is this alright?"

"Yes," she murmured absently. She felt the sudden warmth of his large, left hand on her back, holding her against him gently. She could hear his heartbeat speed up and felt a momentary sense of pity for him. This entire situation must be as horrendous for him. She settled into his grip on her body, confused at her lack of fear.

Why was this suddenly becoming tolerable? Was it truly the rectifying of childhood fears of abandonment and shame at physical contact? Was Dr. Thredson truly fixing her?

A sense of gratitude so large overcame her that she found she couldn't breathe. She felt a tear slip down her cheek at the contact of him. The soft, warm welcoming safety of his arms.

Safety.

"Are you alright?" Oliver had noticed her tears, wetting the front of his undershirt. He was terrified he'd done something wrong. He had been so intent on his grasp of her that he hadn't taken into account she may still be unprepared.

"I'm sorry," Kathryn replied, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand and stepping backwards. "I'm fine. I'm just overwhelmed."

"Of course," Oliver replied kindly. "A completely rational response."

A moment passed where Kathryn sniffled gently, wiping away the tears that seemed intent on slipping down her cheek.

"Miss Hatcher, I want to suggest something, but I don't want you to react negatively." She stiffened opposite him, he could see her body go rigid as he spoke and he regretted it immediately. Her voice was quiet, afraid.

"What is it?"

"I feel as if we should continue in this vein," Thredson offered with his best neutral doctor voice. "Since you seem to be doing so well."

"Meaning?"

Oliver knew there was no coming back from it now. He'd mentioned it and now he was going to have to go through with it. A small part of him internally chastised himself for his unprofessional decorum.

"A kiss," he said rushedly. "It is a form of positive intimacy that negates genital contact. What are your thoughts?"

She froze, taking another step back from him inadvertently. All the warmth and comfort that she had felt was replaced with that sickening horror at his words. A kiss was such a large undertaking. It would be bad enough to try it in real life, but in this strange situation with all this pressure? It seemed impossible.

"I can't do it."

"I understand," Thredson nodded, removing his arms from her shoulder, looking past her and saying nothing more. "You tried so hard Miss Hatcher. I respect that about you."

She went to say something more when she took in the blush on his cheeks. The way he fumbled doing up his buttons, looking everywhere but her face. She didn't know why but she felt she could continue with him.

"Wait," she insisted, placing a tentative hand on his to stop him. "Let's try it. Please let me go slow."

Oliver nearly yelped out in delighted surprise at the feel of her hands on his, but his outward appearance was that of calm indifference. A scientific curiosity at best. He nodded at the girl, watching her exhale slowly.

"Of course."

Awkwardly she licked her lips, her hands coming to rest on his chest for balance. As she leaned in she could see the fullness of his lips, the shadow of a bear starting on his chin and cheeks. He smelled of Brylcreem. That floral, musky odor she had forever associated with professors from my college. His gaze never left hers, making the moment too intimate.

"Please close your eyes," she asked him and he acquiesced immediately.

She took a deep breath before leaning forward and- found herself stopping. She tried again to move to his lips but something was stopping her. What was it? Thredson opened his eyes to see Kathryn's frightened face inches from his own. "Is there a problem?" his voice was thick and low.

"I'm frozen," she whispered, closing her eyes tightly. "I can't move. I'm too scared."

"Scared of what, exactly? Be specific."

"Scared of the action," she insisted, her lips beginning to tremor. "Scared of... I don't know. It feels wrong."

"I understand," came the low rumble of Thredson. There was a pause and she could feel his mind whirring as if it were a machine in front of her. "Maybe there's another way?"

She opened her eyes in question, her hope leaping. The record changed to the next song, a French one she didn't recognize.

"Perhaps if I were the one to instigate the contact? Perhaps that would lessen the feelings of shame you associate with physical intimacy?"

She swallowed thickly at this suggestion, her eyes falling to his sensual mouth and then back to his eyes. There was a kindness there. An understanding that what she was experiencing he wanted to help her through. She nodded before closing her eyes once more.

She felt both arms come to encircle her waist, his hands flat on the curve of her back, pulling her into him. She felt a flutter of panic before tilting her head up, her eyes wet and her body anticipating the contact. She felt the movement of his neck, allowing his face to meet hers. She felt the tentative touch of his lips on hers and attempted to pull away on instinct. She felt like a bird trying to fly its way out of a cage.

"Don't resist," Thredson whispered against her mouth, his hands tightening around her waist. "Fight through it."

She felt a tremble slip traitorously through her abdomen before she nodded and felt as his mouth pressed firmly against her own. Her eyes fell closed and her head tilted to better accept his mouth on her own. Deftly his lips began to work against hers, soft and yet firm, almost yielding.

Kathryn felt Oliver's arms as he supported her, her palms resting on the upper part of his arms for balance. She could feel the coiled muscles under his button down, surprised at how taut his frame was. He was lean and tall when he walked, but his arms were solid and warm. She felt his chest against her own, feeling confused at the calm she was experiencing. Her nails dug into his shirt, the tactile experience overwhelming her.

Shouldn't she be afraid? This contact was strictly verboten. So then why was she kissing him back?

Oliver could barely believe what was happening. He had her in his arms and she was grasping onto him, her lips starting to respond to his own almost hungrily. He felt her hips shift, tentatively brushing against his own. Without thinking or asking, Oliver's hands grasped her tighter and she gasped against him, her hands travelling up his chest until they wrapped around his neck, deepening the kiss and causing her brain to snap back into reality.

 _What am I doing?_

"You're doing such good work," Thredson whispered as they pulled apart breathing heavily and searching her face with his gaze. "Shall we continue? Can you do that?"

"My legs are a bit tired," she offered. Truthfully she could barely stand. This entire exercise had sent her body for a loop and she felt weak all over. Thredson nodded and motioned towards the couch at the corner of his office.

"Is this acceptable?"

It was daunting, seeing that sofa and knowing what was to continue.

 _You know you have to do this_. _You need to get out of Briarcliff. And you need to explore this new feeling. This is him helping you. There is a chance to be cured. Just think - a normal life!_

"We can stop at any time," Thredson reminded her once more, his lips swollen from their previous coupling. His hair was ruffled, his shirt still open and strangely he looked even more intimidating than when he was all put together. Suddenly a feeling almost foreign to her began to worm its way through her. Seeing him there, looking up at her with what she could only imagine was desire was causing something strange to happen.

She _wanted_ to be touched.

She wanted his hands on her. This man that looked at her with such curiosity. How is it he could bring this out in her? She nodded, unable to speak as she sat beside him on the couch stiffly. The springs creaked as her frame settled onto it. Thredson was glancing furtively at her behind his glasses almost at a loss of what to do next. It was if they were two sweethearts out on a date for the first time and despite what had just occurred she felt distant from the experience. Strange and foreign.

Finally he cleared his throat loudly, causing her to start. "Shall we begin?"

His tone was firm, brusque. She appreciated the detached professionalism. At least someone was in control here. She felt silly for the rush of passion that was starting to go through her. No wonder patients formed such attachments with their therapists.

But he was bringing out this new part in her. This part she found she liked quite a bit.

She shifted until she was facing him on the couch. She looked into his face, so close to her own. She could see the soft curve of his lips, the dark eyes that seemed to hypnotize her. All of a sudden he wasn't just Dr. Thredson. He was a man. A man who was looking at her with a look that set her alight. Could she do this?

 _Stop over thinking, Kathryn. That's your whole problem. Go with your feeling._

Something within grabbed a hold of her and before she could over think it, she launched her mouth against his, surprising him. He made a small sound in his throat before letting his eyes fall closed. She let her lips trail along the corner of his mouth before surrendering herself to the experiment. A strange sensation had started within her core, confusing her.

Her hands went to the collar of his dress shirt and she could feel as his hands cupped her soft cheeks, pulling her mouth eagerly to his. For a moment it didn't feel like they were patient and doctor. It felt like the desire two lonely people could share and she let herself give in. For the first time in her life her body was not on guard and she allowed him passage. She let her arms fall to either side of her body and let him dominate her form.

 _He understands me._

She didn't know where the thought came from, but it coursed through her. It was if he understood her pain as unlikely as that was. She was confused at this sensation he was beginning to draw out of her. He seemed to grow bolder with each passing second, his lips becoming more hungry for her own. Slowly he pressed into her, guiding her to lay flat on the sofa. His arms on either side of Kathryn, her arms laying weakly at her sides. Oliver could feel himself slowly unravelling as his mouth claimed Kathryn's. His hips were beginning to press against hers, feeling the sweet apex of her thighs. The song continued on in the background, breathy and erotic.

"Touch me," he breathed as he continued to kiss her. Kathryn obeyed happily, her hands coming to rest in his thick hair, feeling the glossy smoothness. She could feel his erection at her inner thigh through his slacks, thick and warm and she felt the heat begin to pool at her groin. They continued kissing, the movement of their mouths the only sound in the room as the record had now concluded.

"Here," Oliver whispered against her lips, pulling her hand from his hair and placing it over his clothed groin.

Kathryn shivered, her hands slowly massaging him through his slacks, watching as the Doctor's face above her went from wonton desire to intense arousal. His eyes were shut tightly and he hissed between his teeth lowly. She couldn't believe she was causing this reaction in him. And for that matter she couldn't believe the sensations that were swirling through her, that this man was causing her body to respond this way. He groaned lowly into the curve of her neck and the sofa creaked under her as he pressed himself further against her body.

Kathryn shivered as he moved his down her jaw line and to her neck. A new ripple of pleasure went through her as he kissed her neck softly. His hands beginning to travel from her collar downwards... Suddenly there was a rap at the door and their hearts jumped.

Tilting her head back Kathryn could see the shadow of someone's feet at the crack of the door. Thredson was stiff against her, his eyes were wide and staring at the door.

"Doc? You in there?"

Thredson pulled back from Kathryn as if she were on fire. His left hand gripped the cushion beside her for balance, the other on the back of the sofa to keep himself from lying completely on top of the frightened girl. The entire situation became remarkably stark as his patient started up at him with the most unreadable expression in her chocolate brown eyes. He had crossed a line. A very very strict line.

"Yes?" Thredson offered with a strangled voice. "What is it, Carl?"

"Sister Mary Eunice wants a word. She's in her office, wants you to come up."

"Just a moment," Thredson managed to speak evenly then, his voice betraying nothing of what had just been going on, his body still firmly against Kathryn's, his erection still nestled comfortably between her clothed thighs. He glanced from the door to her face as he spoke next. "I'm just finishing up with a patient."

"Sounds good, Doc. I'll tell her to expect you."

Slowly his footsteps ceased and the two figures stared down at one another a moment, unsure what to do. Eventually it was Kathryn who pushed herself away from Thredson on the couch, her face blanching and her heart moving erratically within her chest at what had just happened. What have I done? The sofa creaked angrily under her protestations as Thredson hopped up from the sofa gracefully, glancing down at her worriedly and running a hand through his hair had never seen him like this, out of sorts like this.

And suddenly she realized that Mary Eunice had been right. He didn't want to help her. He wanted her for sex. How demeaning.

"This was a bad idea," he insisted, unable to meet her eyes. "Completely unprofessional. You should go."

Kathryn stood quickly, grabbing her sweater and pulling it on as she prepared to leave his office, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. Her body had betrayed her and now this had happened. How was she to ever trust anyone? She was at the door when she felt his arms around her shoulders, spinning her to face him. "You've done nothing wrong," Oliver whispered urgently, needing her to believe him.

"I've never had anything like this happen with a patient. I don't know what's come over me. Please be assured that you are completely in the right here. It's I who acted inappropriately."

Kathryn's dark eyes were alight with that all-too-familair fire from their first session. All the trust they had built together came smashing down. He looked at her mussed hair and swollen lips and wanted desperately to press her against the door and continue. He wanted to bury himself within her and have her cry out his name. He was shocked when he felt the harsh slap of her hand against his cheek, causing him to step back in surprise, loosening his grip on her.

"Sister Mary Eunice was right," Kathryn muttered under her breath before wrenching harshly from Oliver's grasp and running into the night, leaving Oliver looking after the girl in total confusion.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: Movie Night**

Oliver knocked on Sister Jude's office door before walking in. Sister Mary Eunice sat on the large, looming desk, her eyes taking him in as he entered, closing the door behind him. She looked rather well which was a shock.

"You're looking much better Sister," Oliver observed clinically.

The woman seemed much recovered after her fainting spell at the Potter exorcism. If anything the woman looked more alert, more confident. He was surprised to see such a change.

"Thank you, Doctor."

Sister Mary Eunice looked at him predatorily, her gaze taking in the swollen lips, the flushed cheeks, the slightly crooked tie. She had never seen Dr. Thredson look like this before. Oliver nodded awkwardly, uncomfortable under the woman's watchful gaze, his hands in his pocket as he spoke.

"You needed to see me?"

Sister Mary Eunice smlled, nodding slowly before nodding towards the empty chair in front of her.

"Please take a seat, Doctor Thredson"

Oliver did as instructed, feeling strange as he did so. He absently brought a hand to his head, smoothing his hair. He wondered if he looked askew. He wondered if he'd straightened his tie enough, or fixed his hair. It had been quite mussed.

"You seem out of sorts, Doctor."

 _Can she see it on me? The look of guilt?_

Images of Kathryn moaning against his mouth, her hands on his skin were causing him to grow uncomfortable. God how he'd wanted to continue. His palms itched then, wanting so badly to be on her body. When she'd slapped him he'd grown immediately hard, wanting to fuck her roughly against the door until she came with a force unlike he'd ever witnessed. But he couldn't. It wasn't like that. She was his patient. She trusted he'd watched her run off, his cheek stinging from her hand.

And now he sat here with Sister Mary Eunice, trying his best not to appear aroused. He picked a piece of imaginary lint from the kneecap of his pants, trying to appear as bored as possible.

"Not at all," Oliver smiled wanly in the nun's direction. "Just a long day."

"Of course," Sister Mary Eunice said in a voice that betrayed she didn't believe him one bit. She grinned wolfishly, almost as if she were reading his thoughts. "Speaking of which Doctor, I understand that we have a bit of a...problem."

"Problem?"

"Yes, a problem." Mary Eunice swung down from the desk, slowly walking circles around Oliver's chair as she spoke, her smile saccharine. Her fingertips trailed the top of the chair, making Oliver twitch inadvertently. "It's come to my attention that you have far too many patients and too little time to give them the quality attention they deserve."

Oliver glanced over at her in surprise. How forward thinking of her to acknowledge this. He most certainly hadn't seen that comment coming. He gaped at her as she continued speaking.

"Now if I recall you were here for the Kit Walker case. But if the rumors are true, and let's face it-" Sister Mary Eunice gave a conspiratorial wink, "they usually are, then you've also taken into your care a certain Miss Hatcher?"

"Yes."

"A spirited one that Hatcher," Sister Mary Eunice said with a chuckle and a flick of he wrist. "But a case that can be easily passed along to one of the nuns here. She no longer requires your assistance, Doctor."

Oliver went cold at those words, unsure of how to protest in a way that was professional when Mary Eunice continued passionately, interrupting him.

"But there's someone else I'd love for you to take a look at. A certain Miss Winters. She would really benefit from your council."

Oliver felt his body grow stiff as she spoke the name aloud. He looked up at her to see her giving him a knowing look. It was the same look the Potter boy had given him as he intoned about his collection. Oliver felt a subtle shiver run through his body as Sister Mary Eunice tilted her head to the left playfully. She was baiting him. Making him make a choice between Kathryn and Lana. He knew what this was, this decision in front of him.

"So, what do you say, Doctor?"

Kathryn groaned at the sound of someone knocking on her cell door. She had been in here only a few moments, hoping to escape the hideous evening that she'd had. Between Sister Mary Eunice and that horrible way she'd been treated at the end of her session Kathryn wanted nothing more than to sleep. She raised herself up on her elbows, looking over her shoulder to see Carl the orderly looking at her with a menacing scowl.

"It's movie night in the common room," Carl boomed, whipping the sheets off her bed. Kathryn winced, bringing herself to a seated position on the bed. She glanced up at Carl, his pockmarked face glaring down at her.

"I'm tired," Kathryn bit back, rubbing her eyes tiredly and wishing he would just leave. "I don't want to watch it. I just want to sleep."

"Well this is mandatory," Carl muttered irritated, pulling the girl out of her bed harshly by her elbow. "So get up."

Kathryn drew herself hurriedly from his grasp before she sighed darkly and pulled on a sweater. Following the man out of her cell she cast a wayward glance back at her bed. It may not be much but at least it had been some sort of reprieve from the day she'd had.

She couldn't stop thinking of Dr. Thredson's hands all over her body. How he'd let her explore every inch of him, encouraging her to touch his... She felt herself reddening at the memory. It seemed so faint and fuzzy as if it had never truly happened.

"Hurry up, patient," Carl called over to her shuffling form. Kathryn did as she was told, her eyes glancing in every crook and cranny they passed, her heart in her throat at the prospect of seeing a glint of glasses or the scent of Old Spice aftershave. She didn't think she could handle seeing him right now. Not when she was feeling so strange.

She followed Carl dejectedly, into the crowded common room where people were talking loudly about the film. Some laughing, some moaning. Others were sitting stunned and dazedfrom the medication. Pepper sat up happily, her hands clasped together in excitement. Sister Jude was winding her way up to the front of the room, the white screen making her look even darker.

"Welcome one and all to Briarcliff Manor's inaugural movie night," Sister Jude said as she veered down the makeshift aisle, the world appearing warped and wild to her. "Whether this evening marks the start of a beloved t-tradition or just another bitter disappointment is entirely up to you!"

Kathryn couldn't help but observe that Sister Jude looked strange though. Teetering as she spoke and excessively emotional. Kathryn took a quick glance around the crowded room to see if a familiar face occupied one of the seats.

No sign of Thredson.

Kathryn felt herself sigh in relief at that.

Carl ushered her to the front of the room, sitting her in the front row of the film. Two seats over a half-asleep Latino woman gazed up at Jude in disinterest.

Jude was still rambling at the front. Kathryn kept her eyes on Jude, trying not to smirk at the woman's bizarre behavior. She seemed drunk! But nun's didn't drink, did they? Kathryn watched on as this trainwreck of a speech concluded with Sister Jude calling Charles Laughton a whoopsie.

As the thunder struck, Kathryn did her best to keep her laughter concealed behind her hands.

Oliver walked slowly into the common room, seeing that the movie was about to start. After his bizarre meeting with Sister Mary Eunice he was eager to see Lana. It felt strange having the nun's blessing to continue contact with Lana - encouraging him to start treatment with saw her a few rows up from the front, a seat empty next to her. He licked his lips absently as he drew beside it.

She glanced up at him as he lowered himself into the seat next to her, giving her hand an absent pat of comfort. He couldn't believe he'd done it.

 _There there, mother_ he thought with an inward grin.

He felt her gaze on him at the contact, but his attention was on the familiar head of Kathryn Hatcher. She sat at the front of the room, her arms crossed and her attention elsewhere. Oliver felt his breath catch in his throat. How was he going to get through this evening with Kathryn sitting there mere rows away from him? Suddenly Jude had become emotional. Staggering her way down the middle aisle they'd made with the chairs.

"Don't be afraid of the dark. At the end of a storm is a golden sky and the bright silver song of a lark. Walk on through the wind, walk on through the rain. Though your dreams may be tossed and blown, walk on. Walk on with hope in your heart." At this point Sister Jude's voice started to crack and her eyes became blurry.

Oliver glanced at her as did everyone else as she passed. But his gaze drew over to Kathryn to see her watching Sister Jude's bizarre act. She was smiling at the woman's antics before she felt the gaze of Dr. Thredson upon her. Her dark eyes flickered to his face and she blanched. He was unsure what to do or how to proceed so he gave a short nod in her direction. She scowled immediately at him before whipping around to face the screen.

"You'll never walk alone. Never walk...but she was alone. Tiny little fragile thing. Out in the world..." Jude was mumbling to herself now and her words incomprehensible. " _It was not rain and it was not wind. It was something altogether else_."

Thunder clapped loudly again causing everyone to shudder and some of the patients to cry out in terror. Jude suddenly stopped, wiping the tears from her face.

"Lights!" she crowed before exiting the room.

"What was that all about?" Oliver asked distractedly as Sister Mary Eunice entered as if on cue, marching her way to front row of seats, pushing one of the patients roughly. Oliver's gaze glanced over to Kathryn, seeing as the girl across the aisle grew nervous, wrapping her arms around herself. Oliver was crestfallen, but his mood greatly increased as Lana spoke to him in hushed tones.

"Oh she's bats, or haven't you noticed?" Lana intoned darkly before looking at Oliver hopefully. " Did you speak to Wendy?"

Oliver dragged his gaze from the back of Kathryn's head over to Lana once more. He didn't know how to word what had happened. He had to appear solemn. He always enjoyed this part of the game. The acting. It was always a challenge that he found to be a rather creative pursuit. He wondered if in another life people would have been watching him up there on the movie screen.

"What?" Lana inquired at his gaze.

"I tried to phone," Oliver whispered. "But there was no answer so I went to check on her. I rang the bell but the door was unlocked so I let myself in. Miss Winters, I know how alarming this is but I'm afraid that something might have happened to your friend."

"What do you mean?" Lana's voice was catching in her throat, her eyes wide with terror.

"There were certain similarities between Miss Peyser's disappearance and some of the other victims."

"Other victims?"Lana could feel the world getting swirly before her eyes, blinking rapidly to remain focussed on Dr. Thredson's pale face illuminated by the glow of the picture playing before them. "What are you saying?"

Oliver glanced over at Kit meaningfully. Lana followed his gaze. Bloody face. It wasn't Kit. She felt a stab of cold regret worm its way down her chest. She had been so wrong about the boy. She had foiled her only chance at escape thinking it was Kit.

"That I have some concerns-"

"SHHHH!" came the rough hiss of Sister Mary Eunice, trying to enjoy the film. Oliver lowered his voice, causing Lana to lean in. "That I have some concerns. Concerns which I've related to the police but unfortunately they're so invested in the idea that they've already caught their maniac that they won't even entertain the idea that maybe they haven't."

Lana was looking into his face with absolute devastation and internally Oliver thought he should be in the very pictures they were watching. He could act better than any of these clowns.

"But they have caught him, haven't they?" Lana urged. "Haven't they?"

"To be honest I'm not so sure," Oliver replied, trying to look concerned.

The movie continued on in front of them, but Oliver's gaze was caught by that of Sister Mary Eunice who observed the two sitting together and gave Oliver a surreptitious wink before turning back to face the screen. Oliver tried his best to be engaged with the film but it was tedious. Half naked women danced along the screen having bath's. He felt himself searching for something to say to Lana, anything to get their conversation to continue.

"It's really not appropriate for me to be seeing this," Lana whispered all of a sudden motioning to the women on screen. "Considering my _condition_. Sister Jude will understand. I'm going to the ladies."

Oliver faltered, not knowing how to keep her attention and instead watching as she moved past him in the aisle, rushing out the door to the hallway. She slipped through his grasp so easily. He looked back to the movie dejectedly, trying to be engaged but feeling the entire time as if his gaze was being pulled downwards and to the left. Miss Hatcher. She was trying her best to keep calm in the current circumstance.

She glanced at Sister Mary Eunice a moment in fear before turning back to the screen. She was openly not glancing over at him and he found himself upset by this. He glanced over absently to see that Kit and Grace's chairs were deserted. His gaze glancing over to the now empty seat to his right and the connections were suddenly made.

They were gone. Escaping.

He felt a cold hand wrap around his heart and he rushed over to Frank at the projector. Without Lana this would never work. His plan simply couldn't work without her.

"Excuse me," Oliver whispered to Frank.

The man didn't even glance at him, his eyes fiaxted upon the titillation on the screen.

"What?"

"There appear to be some patients missing," Oliver said loudly, irritated at the man's distraction. "Were you aware of that?"

Frank suddenly broke his attention from the titillation on screen and swept the room with a gaze before wincing and standing.

"Oh shit."

He rushed over to Sister Mary Eunice, rousing her from her chair and telling her of the situation. She fled from the room, seeming irritated at the interruption. She glanced over at Oliver with an unreadable look before exiting the room completely.

Oliver exhaled lowly, hoping that he had alerted the staff in enough time to recover at least Miss Winters. He was so eager to continue his time with her, his fingertips nearly electric with the thought of their time together. She would make such a wonderful mother, he just knew it. But without her physical figure here, he could feel his attention drifting to the woman who sat in the front row, alone and now more at ease.

 _I need to focus on Miss Winters._

But even as he thought it, his legs were moving in the direction of Kathryn Hatcher. Before she could protest, he took the seat beside her, the rest of the room blind to his actions. They were all fixated on the film and all the individuals in charge were gone, except for Frank who was glued back to the picture.

Oliver's shoulder bumped against hers and he inhaled gently that same heady scent of lavender and soap. She didn't move an inch, instead keeping her gaze on the projected image before her. He had to make amends with her. He had crossed the very strict line between patient and physician. He felt her trembling slightly against him and he felt a rush of hot shame invade him.

"I don't know how to properly apologize for my actions," Oliver whispered, his eyes focussed on the screen. To anyone else they would look as if they were just watching the film side-by-side. "Please understand that this has never happened to me before."

Kathryn was silent, her hands folded on her lap. She held her gaze up at the bright movie in front of her, watching absently as the Christians were eaten. She was upset by the imagery and wanted to leave but felt she was stuck. She could feel Dr. Thredson's warm arm against hers and she did not pull away. She found to her dismay that she was comforted by it. She was ashamed to admit that their tryst in the office had done something to her. Something inside her that had been broken was being mended and it was because of him. It was because of his methods and teaching.

"I've been instructed that I can no longer work with you," Oliver continued lowly, his voice a silken purr. "I thought that may bring you some comfort."

He felt her grow rigid beside him, her gaze slowly turning onto his face. She spoke softly trying not to draw attention.

"Why?"

"The Sister simply wants me to turn my attention to those who need my help more. And after our altercation today, frankly I thought you would be relieved."

The girl fell silent beside him and it wasn't until he heard the softly hitched breath at his side that he looked down at her. She was sobbing gently into her chest, her eyes shut tightly and tears slipping down her cheeks at an alarming rate. She spoke in a soft hiccup, her shoulders quaking with every shaken intake of breath.

"But _I_ need you, Dr. Thredson."

Oliver was shocked at this admission and he gaped down at her. After their horrible experience today he had just assumed that she would be thankful to have him thrust from her life. He wanted to comfort her then, to gather her up into his arms like she'd been in his office. But they were in such a public place. Instead he snaked his left hand from its place on his kneecap over to her hands which lay in her lap. He felt the warmth of her fingertips upon him and he felt his breath leave him. She clasped her fingers around his left hand tightly, her hiccups slowing.

Oliver felt an illicit thrill from their actions. He knew they could be caught at any moment and yet the contentment he felt with her skin against his was almost like a drug. He couldn't stop. Instead his thumb traced a small circle within the smooth palm of her hand, lulling her into a state of calm.

"Don't give up on me," she whispered suddenly, her eyes on the screen.

Oliver felt his chest swell at those words and despite Mary Eunice's suggestion, he knew he could never abandon Kathryn Hatcher like everybody else had in this world. He kept his eyes on the screen but his voice was thick with meaning.

"Never."

The doors to the common room banged open with a clunk and the two immediately broke apart from one another, trying to look as natural as possible.

Sister Jude was screaming at Frank about letting the patients escape and turning the lights on. The patients started to complain, informing her that the film wasn't over yet.

Oliver stood sharply, walking over to Sister Jude who was ranting now that movie night was over and that all the characters died. The patients moaned and groaned as they headed back to their cells - their first hours of entertainment in a decade completely ruined.

As Oliver made his way down the aisle he couldn't help but be shocked by the appearance of Lana, Grace and Kit all sitting beside one another, shivering and wet. The patients were complaining as they shuffled from the room and the three fugitives looked shakily from one to another before standing and worming their way into the zombie-like crowd. Oliver smirked a bit as he drew to the back of the room, his arms crossed in front of him as he surveyed the chaotic scene before him.

Things could continue according to plan.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: The Rock**

Lana walked slowly to the office of Dr. Thredson, her body alight with hope. She had been brought her directly after breakfast by an unnamed orderly. She entered the room boldly, her eyes falling on the familiar frame of Dr. Thredson.

"Ah, Lana. Welcome."

He stood, offering a hand that she shook before sitting down at the chair opposite his desk. He smiled warmly, smoothing down his tie as he sat.

"So," he opened the file on his desk with a flourish. "It appears that you attempted an escape last night."

Lana said nothing, wondering if there was a strange form of punishment in store for her. She had thought Dr. Thredson to be a kind man, but perhaps he was just as bad as the rest of them. He raised a cigarette to his lips, inhaling slowly, almost seductively. She frowned, wishing she had one herself.

"Here's the thing Lana," Dr. Thredson said to the woman who sat across from him, drawn and pale. Smoke curled from the edge of his lips as he exhaled, his cigarette in hand. "You don't belong in here. You're not a danger to society. You were right to try to escape."

Lana looked at him a moment before snickering darkly, shaking her head at his words, surprising him.

"You headshrinkers are all the same. According to your Bible, the _Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders_ , I'm sick. I have an _illness_."

"I believe I can help you," Oliver replied, the smoke blurring her from his sight a moment. "I'd like to try if you'll let me."

Lana blinked slowly. "But I'm not even your patient."

"I see myself in you," Dr. Thredson replied with a strange and cryptic smile. "Your thoughtful and intelligent. You have something to offer the world and they can't keep you in here if they don't have a current diagnosis. If I can convince them that I've cured you they'll be forced to release you."

Lana felt herself bristling as he spoke, her eyes growing dim and her hands clenching at her sides.

"Doctor I have been this way since...since I can remember," she spoke slowly and irritated. "There is no cure."

Oliver felt a flash of irritation course through him at her stubborn attitude. Here he was offering her salvation and she wasn't even prepared to try? What kind of mother would she make?

"Your choice," he replied coolly, closing her file firmly. "I'm not like Sister Jude, I won't force you to do anything. But I also won't be here very much longer. Another week if we're lucky. So if you want help getting out of this shit-hole we better jump in."

Lana gulped thickly, her nerves suddenly fraying at his words. She looked across the desk at the man's eyes, their almost menacing ferocity. He was her only hope. But she couldn't imagine what he could hope to cure her with.

"You're a fish out of water Lana, gasping for life. It won't end well." Oliver leaned forward on the desk, his face imploring. "Trust me."

Kit glanced over at the girl with the dark hair and eyes, his own face contorted in sympathy. Out of everyone here she had seemed the most alone. Despite what seemed like a very active mind (he'd noticed she'd gone through six books since he'd first seen her) she seemed completely shut off from the rest of the world.

She had her knees drawn up, her arms around them and she was looking out the window with a look of such acute sorrow that Kit felt tears spring to his eyes.

"You're too soft," Grace said lowly, watching the exchange and moving her pawn to take Kit's rook. The two sat accross from one another at the chess board, trying to ignore the fact that many of the pieces were missing.

"She's fine."

"She doesn't look fine," he replied with a head shake, moving his pawn up a space absently. "She looks so alone there. So scared."

"Everyone is scared here, Kit."

Kit looked back to Grace, his hand coming to rest on the girl's forearm a moment before the guards shouted hands off. He removed his grip, his eyes still glued to her face.

"But at least we have a plan for escaping," Kit replied confidently. "And we got each other. What's she got?"

"She has Doctor Thredson," Grace replied, knocking his bishop over. "I've seen the way he looks at her. She's his pet project."

"Whadda ya mean, Grace?" Kit inquired, suddenly unsure. Dr. Thredson seemed like a nice enough guy, but as Doctor Arden's own special pet himself, Kit felt a stab of fear go through him at the thought of this poor girl being someone else's guinea pig. Grace exhaled dramatically through her lips, looking at Kit with a bored expression.

"What I mean is that I have been here a long time. I have seen a lot of shrinks in my day. And the way he was looking at her at the movie last night was anything but professional."

Kit opened his eyes wide in surprise. Would a doctor really do that with his own patient? Kit leapt up, preparing to talk to the girl to see the scoop when he felt Grace's arm on his sweater, pulling him back to a seated position.

"Are you insane? Leave the girl alone."

"But I gotta warn her," Kit replied in earnest, confused at Grace shaking her head.

"No."

"Why?"

"Because Kit," Grace replied sternly, her hands finally loosening from his sweater as a guard neared them. "I think she likes it."

Oliver sat back in his chair, glancing up at the tiles on the ceiling before standing and stretching. He felt as if he'd been at his desk for hours. First Lana, then Kit. Kit had been the real challenge. Oliver had tried to be understanding, to help the boy come to some sort of closure. Empathising why he must have killed Alma because of societal pressures. He'd even walked him through the experience - how he must have done it step by step. Joanna Burton. Alison Rydell. But Kit had been firm. Arguing against the kindness that Oliver was trying to bestow on him.

Did he really think that he was going to fall for the spaceman routine?

Of course he hadn't killed the women Oliver had - but surely he had done in Alma. Then Lana bursting into his office hours later, insisting that she was ready for treatment. It had gone abysmally. But that was to be expected. He had to look like he was making some sort of attempt with her. The therapy with she and Daniel had gone just as expected - the retching into the bucket was even better than he'd anticipated after she'd touched the young man's genitals. Daniel had been upset - confused that this was not the same woman he had helped before. But he was always confused and so he went along with it.

Oliver had a plan from the start. Putting her in the horrible situation and then bringing her out again, safe on the other side. Why, he'd even 'smuggled' in the photo of her beloved Wendy. slipping it to her in the common room.

 _"They'll never let keep this," Lana had offered with a sorrowful headshake up at him._

 _"You only have to hide it until the end of the week," Oliver had replied, a small smile falling over his lips. "I'm leaving here on Friday and I am taking you with me. I don't know how yet, but I will not leave you in this place, Lana. That's a promise."_

He had seen the happy tears slipping down her cheeks, and he had felt that sweet thrill of victory. Of a plan coming together.

But how to smuggle her out? That would be tough. He didn't want to be seen leaving the building with her. But how else to get her out? He frowned at that puzzle, turning to the window and looking into the grey day below. He saw the various figures walking around, most notably Pepper, skipping around the courtyard with a childlike energy that Oliver couldn't help but smile at. One of the nun's called out for her to calm down and help with the flowers.

Oliver had seen that some of the wards had been granted outdoor privileges in the last week and that pleased him even if it was Mary Eunice's doing. They needed the fresh air. He lit a new cigarette, tasting the sweet tobacco on his tongue before glancing out at a figure to the right of the field. She was leaning against a large, thick tree, her nose in the large book in her hands.

Oliver did a double take when he realized it was none other than Miss Hatcher. From his vantage he could see her outline clearly, the swell of her breasts under her blue inform, the dark hair falling into her eyes. He felt himself growing hard at the sight as he recalled their clandestine tryst the day before. Without thinking, he had unbuckled his slacks, slipping a pale hand beneath the waistband and grasped his hardening member.

Kathryn continued reading, unaware of the tall man that looked down at her from his office. She was enjoying the breeze of the day, biting her lips as she scanned the page, turning them quickly. She leaned against the tree bark, feeling its rough texture on her back. She crooked her left knee, resting the sole of her foot on the tree behind her. Oliver focussed on her hands, the smooth white fingertips, pumping his shaft as she continued. He could almost imagine it was her touching him here in his office. He leaned his left hand on the wall for support, his eyes still trained on Kathryn.

She brought a pale fingertip to her mouth and licked it absently before using it to turn the page.

"Jesus," Oliver groaned lowly in his throat at that sight, his movements becoming more jerky as he watched her. He could feel himself coming close to release and he grew slightly dizzy from the diverted blood flow.

When would he see her again? He had been so wrapped up in his plan with Lana that Kathryn had been pushed to the back of his mind that day. He could also admit that he was nervous to approach her. Last night at the movies all seemed forgiven. But she had strode right by him this morning, her eyes downcast and her body language signaling she didn't wish to interact with him.

He was about to think further when out of the corner of his eyes he saw a figure slinking towards Kathryn with a predatory glare. His hands slipped from their ministrations and he buckled his pants. There was something going on here, something wrong and he could feel it. He leaned his head against the cool pane of glass at the window, peering as best he could to see what was going on. A young woman Dr. Thredson didn't recognize from behind advanced slowly on Kathryn from around the tree, her movements slow and silent.

"Look up, Kathryn," Oliver quietly urged under his breath, his eyes fixed on her unknowing form. "See her."

But she didn't. Her eyes were firmly glued to the book in front of her. She looked completely content, a small smile upon her lips. Without forethought, Oliver raised his fists and began to bang on the window, calling out her name. Of course she heard nothing at the distance and didn't even notice when the girl was upon her, a rock poised.

Oliver could almost hear the crack of the rock against her skull from his office. He didn't even see her crumple to the ground before he was down the hallway in a mad sprint, his cigarette long forgotten behind him. He dashed down the corridors, bumping hurriedly into figures left and right.

"Get out of the way!"

He rushed down the steps down to the courtyard, his heart hammering in his chest. A few nuns were circled around the fallen Kathryn, the phantom girl with the rock was nowhere to be seen. He pushed himself through the crowd of patients who were growing upset with the distraction. He came upon her suddenly, her hands on either side of her, her book forgotten in the tall grass. Oliver grimaced at the sight of the girl lying there. For the first time since he arrived Sister Jude looked relieved to see him.

"Doctor Thredson," she offered motioning to the prostrate young woman. Without thinking of how it looked, Oliver leaned down and turned her into his arms, jaw clenched tightly. Her face was pale and smooth in unconsciousness, some dirt smudged on her cheeks.

"I'm taking her to the infirmary," Oliver told Sister Jude quickly turning to rush up the stairs. He looked up just in enough time to see Mary Eunice fixing him with a small smile and a shake of her head at the door.

"Amazing," Mary Eunice whispered in a voice only he could hear. "You arrived so quickly, Doctor. Miraculous that you would be here."

He ignored her hissed comments, gathering the girl even closer to his chest and brushing past a very unimpressed Sister Mary Eunice.

Thredson carried the young woman swiftly up the corridor and down the stairs to the infirmary. She was still deeply unconscious and Oliver could feel a tremor of panic go through his infirmary was empty as usual, save for the young nun-in-training who sat silently next to one of the beds, her head bowed in prayer. Oliver placed Kathryn onto the nearest bed quickly, his eyes wild as he turned to the young nun.

"I need a basin of warm water and a cloth, quickly!"

The girl nodded, scurrying away down the hall and leaving Oliver alone with Kathryn's sleeping form. Her arms and legs were askew on the mattress, her head tilted to the side a strange angle. He grasped her shoulders tightly, his voice catching as he called out to her.

"Miss Hatcher," Oliver shouted into the sleeping girl's face. "Can you hear me? Wake up!" He shook her gently, hoping to see a reaction.

Nothing.

She lay with her lips slightly parted, her face smooth of worry. Was she breathing? He couldn't quite see, his glasses fogged from his exertion. He threw them from his face onto the bed, his face inches from her own. He couldn't hear or see breathing. He placed a trembling hand to her forehead, the other forefinger lifted her chin. He placed his cheek against her chin, listening intently... and then a flood of relief washed over him. She was indeed breathing.

He straightened her legs out, pulling off her tennis shoes and slipping her form under the wool blanket provided. He gathered her under the neck and pulled her until her head was sitting comfortably atop the pillow.

As he pulled back something caught Oliver's eye and he glanced down at his arm to see blood drying slowly on his shirt. She was bleeding from the head. He searched her thick hair, coming upon a large gash that was slowly trickling blood. He quickly rolled up his sleeves as the nun-in-training was back with the basin and cloth. She rushed back out of the room as he barked at her to grab a nylon bandage to wrap the girl's head with. He quickly washed his hands before gently cleaning Kathryn's wound of dirt. He tried to steady his breathing before pressing the clean cloth to the wound firmly.

The girl groaned a moment and Oliver nearly cried out in relief. But she didn't open her eyes. He stared at her placid face, her dark lashes against her pale cheeks. She was breathing lowly, her chest rising and falling shallowly. He was relieved to note the bleeding hadn't soaked through the cloth.

"Wake up, Kathryn."

He didn't care that he was using her first name. All he cared was that she could open her eyes once more. To look up at him in that way she did. His guilt was enormous. If he'd kept her safe, if he hadn't scared her yesterday she may have been in his office this morning. Minutes later he could see that the wound had stopped bleeding and the nun-in-training had returned with what he'd asked for. He was thankful that Kathryn wouldn't need stitches. The young girl watched him as he wound the bandage around Kathryn's head, silent and interested.

"You can leave," Oliver told her over his shoulder without looking up. She nodded, exiting quietly.

Oliver finished his bandaging, his job done and felt immediately exhausted. He had been going on so much adrenaline that suddenly he felt he would fall asleep right there. He glanced to his right, seeing a chair and pulled it to the side of the bed. Kathryn's breathing was still even. He pulled one of her arms out from under the blanket, placing it on top and feeling for her pulse. It was still there, even and dim, but it was there.

He sighed gently in relief, finally collapsing onto the chair. He held her hand tightly in his, running an absent finger over her smooth flesh. She didn't stir. For once he didn't care that he had such ease of access to her body. All he wanted was for her to wake up. He lowered his head to the mattress, his hand still clutching hers as he fell into a deep sleep.

He didn't know how much time had passed but he felt the gentle tap of someone's hand on his shoulder. He flinched, sitting up abruptly. He realized he was still holding Kathryn's hand and quickly released it. Sister Mary Eunice and a tall, thin bald man with a goatee were looking down at him blurrily.

"Are you alright, Doctor Thredson?" Sister Mary Eunice was looking down at him with a mixture of humor and concern.

"Quite alright," Oliver said, clearing his throat and standing. "Just ensuring that Miss Hatcher didn't take a turn for the worse."

"Oh, how caring of you. Well, Dr. Arden will take over for now," Sister Mary Eunice insisted with a grim smile as she drew over to him, watching the panic slide over Oliver's face. "It's time you went home for the night. Got some real sleep. You've had a long day."

"Oh it's not a problem," Oliver insisted, rubbing his eyes sleepily. "I'm fine to stay here. I'm sure Dr. Arden has better things to do."

"I insist," Mary Eunice emphasized, gripping his shoulder tightly and leading him from the bed. "Dr. Arden is the best doctor in the entire state. He'll be sure to take good care of Kathryn."

"I assure you I'll do all within my power," Dr. Arden offered solemnly. Oliver tensed, not wanting to leave the girl's side but also not wanting to cause such a fuss that they was obviously found out for their indiscretion. If he was tossed from the hospital there was no telling when they would release Kathryn.

"Wonderful," he offered through clenched teeth, forcing a dark smile. "I'll be heading off then."

"You forgot these," Sister Mary Eunice drawled, plucking his glasses from the end of Kathryn's bed. She almost laughed as he took them from her, shoving them onto his face and rushing out the door. She glanced back over at Dr. Arden who was looking the girl over skeptically.

"So what do you think doctor? Do you think she qualifies for the surgery?"


End file.
